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#if Hydra could find him that fast so could the Howlies!
luninosity · 3 years
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Time for @whumptober2020 prompt 8!
The theme today is “Where’d everybody go?” - specific prompts: abandoned/isolation.
Content/warnings: Bucky trapped alone underground, starting to be afraid no one’ll rescue him this time; eventually Steve does, of course, though Bucky’s kind of shaken...minor warnings for some minor injury (broken legs), not too gruesome.
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They’re in France, picking their way carefully through enemy territory, when Bucky triggers the trap.
 He’s on his own, covering Steve with his rifle as those ridiculous red-white-and-blue shoulders pick their way through an abandoned Hydra base. They’d been meant to raid the place; someone must’ve known they were coming. The self-destruct’s recent, only a couple of hours old, but impressively fireball-laced.
 Steve had wanted to search anyway, to look for anything useful to bring back, any scraps of information, any references to prisoners being held. Bucky had said nothing to that last one, though Steve’s eyes’d cut over to him; he’d only nodded.
 Hell, all the Howlies’ve been prisoners. Bucky’s no different. Not special.
 He’s here at this vantage point up on the low rise because he doesn’t trust Hydra not to’ve left a few foot soldiers behind, knowing Captain America’s on the way; someone needs to keep an eye out for threats Steve doesn’t see. Bucky’s watching the whole scene, the rubble, the dwindling flames. Might be some suspicious sparks. An evil gleam of metal coming out of the trees.
 Dum Dum says something to Morita, holding up a piece of lab equipment; they confer. Steve moves, steps behind a broken building, ducks out of sight.
 Bucky mutters a curse or two under his breath. Pushes himself up. Starts to adjust his position.
 He hears a sound. Almost a sound. A click or a catch—
 Steve, is his first thought; but it’s not Steve in danger, no, it’s the hillside vanishing under Bucky’s own feet, dropping away and dropping him—a goddamn Hydra booby trap, and he walked into it, he heard it but not fast enough, even as he dives for the too-far side of the crumbling hill—
 He falls. Fast, and hard, and far.
 He lands wrong and badly, and a series of sickening snaps burst through his body, his head. And the world goes black.
 He wakes up, gradually, agonizingly.
 He’s cold. And in pain. Those’re the first two realizations.
 He’s cold and in pain and alone in the dark—hurting and trapped and taken away from Steve and his men because of Hydra, all over again—and he can’t breathe, can’t make himself inhale, lungs not working, throat making small frantic airless sounds, heart slamming into his ribs—
 No, he shouts at himself. No. You’re Sergeant James Barnes, you’re in love with Steve Rogers, you’ve got a squad of good men and Captain America himself. You’ll get out of this. It’s not the same. Not like before.
 Memory whispers across his closed eyelids: his voice, raggedly mumbling, and a sharp needle sliding under his skin.
 He forces himself to breathe by thinking of Steve. Of himself, back home in Brooklyn, kneeling on the floor at Steve’s bedside on a vicious winter night. Counting Steve’s breaths: in and out, in and out.
 He does it for himself now. In. And out.
 He opens his eyes. Tries to look around.
 Everything’s dark and dim, nearly black. Bucky in fact has a vague sense that it should be all black, that he shouldn’t be able to make out the distant edges of mechanisms or tree roots. He thinks he might be able to see in the dark a little better than he used to.
 He chalks that up next to maybe a broken toe shouldn’t heal that fast and I haven’t gotten even a cold, not even when the rest of the Howlies caught that bug and were puking up their guts, ever since that room and that table on the list of things he hasn’t told Stevie and probably should. Sometime. No rush. Wouldn’t want Steve to worry.
 His rifle’s come down with him, which is good. The hillside appears to’ve sealed itself over above him, which is bad. He guesses Hydra doesn’t care too much about captured intruders running out of air. The idea’s most likely that—if the base was still operational—they’d come pick him up for interrogation or else simply let him die.
 He shouts, “Steve!” He doesn’t expect the sound to carry far, and it doesn’t. He’s pretty far down, twenty feet at least, and that’s an ominous metal plate up above.
 He’s avoided looking at his legs, so far.
 He catches his breath as pain washes over him. Steve knows his approximate location. Someone’ll come. Someone’ll notice the trap and release the catch and find him. Steve will find him.
 He lies very still, staring up at the blackness above, waiting. The pain comes in waves, building, cresting, ebbing.
 No one’s coming, not yet. He feels something sticky on the side of his face; he touches his temple. Blood, he thinks: a smoky smudge over his fingers in the dark.
 When Steve comes for him, he’ll need to be in shape to be rescued. It’s that thought that makes him struggle to sit up. To confront the ruin of his legs, snapped white bone and mangled flesh. The left one’s worse than the right; he’d landed harder on that one.
 He’s feeling dizzy. He closes his eyes again. Maybe some sort of splint, something—his jacket, his belt—
 It won’t be enough. It won’t be enough, because his legs are—and he’s bleeding so much—and when Steve finds him, he won’t be able to get up, he’ll be a liability—
 Bucky, alone in the dark, can’t quite force back the sob. Fingers pressed into dirt. Digging in, futilely.
 When Steve finds him—
 If. If Steve finds him. The possibility swims up out of the shadows along with  silent mocking laughter. It inquires, all friendly malice: you think he’ll guess what happened? He can’t hear you. No one can hear you.
 “Shut up,” Bucky snaps, aloud.
 Do you think, asks the dark, that you deserve a second miracle? That you have any right to be saved again? After you’ve already needed it once, sad little useless toy soldier that you are? Pathetic.
 It has Zola’s voice. Bucky bites his lip hard enough to taste blood there too, copper and iron as opened-up earth.
 The pit murmurs silkily: you think Steve will be happy to rescue you another time? Over and over? When he has better things to do, he’s meant for more, he’s Steve Rogers and you’re Bucky Barnes?
 “No.”
 It says: You know you keep dragging him down, holding him back. You know he resents you for it. How could he not, when you’re so needy, so helpless, so desperate to stay with him?
 “He doesn’t,” Bucky whispers. “Steve’s not—Steve’s not like that. Steve’s…”
 Gas, he wonders. Some hallucinogen. Some trick. Noises in the pit. Blood loss. This isn’t real. It isn’t true. Steve cares about him.
 Steve does care about him. Steve loves him, though they rarely say it—twice that Bucky can recall, never when anyone else can hear, always careful—they say it in touches, glances, Steve’s brush of fingertips over the back of Bucky’s neck or a sketch of Bucky napping in lazy summer sunshine on their old sagging sofa…
 The two times they’ve said the words, Bucky said it first. Once the night before he shipped out, the two of them entwined in bed, both of them thinking about the cold grey light of dawn. Once the first time Steve slipped into his tent after saving him the last time, and Bucky’d felt so shaken and raw and unlike himself, and he’d just needed to say it, to cling to Steve and say it as Steve held him and made him feel good and reminded him how to feel good…
 Steve had whispered it back, into his hair, holding him.
 Steve’s never said it first. Only when Bucky needs it—when Bucky needs him, needs saving…
 What if Steve doesn’t come for him now?
 Steve will want to, he believes—Steve doesn’t abandon people. Against the law of that big golden leonine heart. But that doesn’t mean Steve will come.
 Steve might not find him. Might give up. Might have to make a tactical decision, if there’re other booby traps around. Might not keep trying.
 Steve might finally, this time, at last and inevitably, consider this an acceptable if painful loss, and move on.
 Bucky’s fingers are cold. He’s cold all over. He doesn’t know how long he’s been down here, in the dark.
 He whispers, “Steve?” And then he whispers the names of his squad, he shouts their names, all of them, one by one: but no one answers. Nothing changes.
 His legs still hurt but something’s starting to feel different. He doesn’t look.
 He tries to think. To plan. If no one’s coming, what can he do? He’s got a rifle and his coat and spare ammunition and some field rations in a pouch, enough for a day, or four if he stretches them out. He knows that the pit’s mostly dirt with some metal gears and slabs, covering the roof and part of the sides, making them too slick to scale.
 It’s not an insurmountable problem, surely. He’s good at angles and aim and calculations. He can figure this out. He can get back to Steve, and go right on watching Steve’s back, and nothing has to change.
 He eyes the walls. Is digging possible? Under or around the metal?
 Hydra would’ve thought of that. Anyway, moving’s tricky.
 Shooting something, a gear or lever? Maybe. Might bring the whole place down, though.
 He pictures being covered by an avalanche of metal and dirt, being buried by it and smothered slowly by it; and then he has to stop thinking about it and make himself breathe again.
 His right knee itches. He scratches it absentmindedly.
 His fingers come away tacky with blood, and for a split second his stomach lurches and he’s afraid he might be sick, but then he makes himself stop and take it in.
 His knee looks like a knee. A little misshapen, twisted, smeared with dull red under the shreds of his pant leg, but healed over. Closed up. No bone visible at all. The shape of it shifts more as he watches: closer to normal, less bent.
 He swallows hard. Forces himself to look more.
 His lower leg’s healing too, putting itself back together. He can see it; he stares, fascinated in a gruesome way. Bones and muscles and veins knitting, repairing, weaving. Blood pumping. It’s almost pretty, in a churning awful way. The left leg’s doing it too, not fast but obviously on its way.
 So, he thinks, half-hysterically; so, I was right about the whole not getting sick part, look at that, look at me; and he laughs helplessly, and then he puts an arm over his face and lets himself cry, quietly, coming apart as his body fixes itself.
 He stops crying at some point. He curls up in the dark with his rifle, because he can do that now, he can move, though his legs feel weak and won’t hold him yet.
 How long’s it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? Enough time that he’s got ankles again. His head doesn’t hurt, either, at least not physically. It probably should. His hand had been very wet, earlier, touching there.
 He shuts his eyes and sees the table, the injections, the self-satisfied cruel curl of a smile—
 That was then. This is now. He’s not there. He’s here.
 But here is there, here is right back in a Hydra trap, here is knowing he’s been changed somehow, he’s something different somehow, and no one’ll save him and no one’s coming, because why would they? Even if they could find him, why would they want him back? Someone altered and made different, someone with this secret…even if they don’t know the secret, he’s still a problem, in need of care and rescue…
 Steve looks at him sometimes as if afraid, as if worried, as if Bucky’s fragile and damaged…and of course Steve’s right, of course Bucky’s not good enough…but that’s always been true, Bucky Barnes’ ordinary little loves of comics and science fiction and sunshine in Steve’s hair could never be enough for the real Steve, Steve who would take on the world if he could and make it better through sheer force of will…
 But Steve’s needed him, sometimes. Once or twice. A shot defending Steve’s six. A scouting mission with important information. That’s mattered, hasn’t it?
 If he can get out, he can get back to Steve. He can try to go on being useful. He can lift his rifle and protect Steve and love Steve, silently, hopelessly, and that’ll be enough, if he’s allowed that much. He’ll take it. Please. Just that. He won’t ask for more.
 He can sit up easily now. He can stand, with one hand braced on the wall of the pit. He hobbles around it, pacing, testing. He thinks the light’s dimmed even more; nighttime, maybe?
 He eyes the dirt, and the metal panes above. If he can gouge some handholds into it—
 Something shakes. Dirt moves. The metal above wobbles.
 Is someone here? The Commandos, or Hydra, or—Steve? Someone?
 Bucky sucks in air, yells, “Hey!” and scrabbles around for a rock. Throws it, hard and accurate, a fastball. It clangs off metal and drops back.
 More shaking happens. Excitement. Voices? Maybe? Indistinct, they’re hard to make out. They move away and return.
 A whole lot of dirt starts sliding in. Walls collapsing. Whatever they’re doing up there, it’s making his pit unstable.
 “You’re not helping!” Bucky yells upward. They kind of are, though. At least they’re trying.
 Metal creaks and groans. Being battered. Bending under an onslaught. More clanging sounds boom, the kind made by angry apprehensive vibranium being wielded by angry apprehensive muscles.
 The top of his pit screams and shrieks and breaks open. A metal sheet and half a tree clatter downward; Bucky swears and dives out of the way, and narrowly avoids snapping a reconstructed ankle in the process.
 A whirlwind of heroic passion plunges down through dirt to land beside him. “Bucky!”
 “Oh, hey,” Bucky manages, coughing, through dust and the strange aching sensation in his own chest. Maybe that’s only breathing. Oxygen. Fresh air. “Nice of you to drop in.”
 “Bucky—” Steve’s hands reach for him, but falter; Steve’s eyes are wide and blue and abruptly scared, raking over his body. “Bucky, don’t move, don’t—you’re hurt, you’re bleeding—how bad—” He cuts himself off to shout up, “Throw us a med kit, something, anything, but hurry—” Back to Bucky: “That’s—there’s so much—don’t try to move, Buck, don’t try to get up—your head, your legs—”
 Steve’s hands shake. Steve’s voice shakes. Steve’s face is pale, horrified, trying not to panic. “Don’t look at it, Buck, don’t look down, just look at me, keep looking at me—”
 “ ’M fine.” Bucky pushes himself up. Sees Steve’s expression snap from terrified to uncomprehending. “Really, Steve, I swear. Just kinda bled a lot.”
 “You…” Steve’s hand hovers over his shoulder. “You’re…okay? But—you look…”
 “Head wounds,” Bucky attempts, “they get messy, Steve, you know that.” His hip’s sore because he landed on that; he rubs it gingerly as the soreness drains away.
 The sky’s dark blue, not black, and speckled with stars and ringed with trees, above. Only about an hour, then. Not longer. Just a small amount of time. So small.
 A medical kit and a rope come flying down, and worried Commando faces appear at the rim of the pit. They cheer, seeing Bucky’s wave. Steve waves up too, belatedly.
 “So,” Bucky tries, “want to get out of here? Hey, how’d you know where to look?”
 “I knew you were up on that hill.” Steve’s eyebrows have that tight furrow between them, the one that means he’s trying to work something out. “And then you stopped answering. And when I got there the ground looked wrong. We guessed it was some kind of trap, just had to work out how it opened and where the weak point was. Are you sure you’re—”
 “I’m great, except for the whole bein’ dropped into a pit part.” He starts to get up; Steve dives in to steady him, arm going around him. Bucky doesn’t admit to being grateful for the touch, the anchor, the reality; he doesn’t cry, either, just says, “It’s okay, Stevie, I’m okay, let’s go before Dum Dum decides to throw anything else at us—oh, grab that med kit, we shouldn’t leave it—”
 “Bucky,” Steve starts, but then shakes his head: practicality first, getting them out first. “Come on, here, I got you…”
 They make it out, courtesy of ropes and supersoldier muscles and a shield for leverage. They make it back to their camp, gingerly: Bucky has to reassure everyone that he’s fine, that he’s not hurt, that he’s willing to joke and laugh and take goodnatured ribbing about being a sniper who can’t see a trap under his own feet. He nods and grins and takes steps on his rebuilt feet, which none of them know about, under the stars.
 He jokes along. He laughs. He accepts the teasing.
 Steve stays at his side as they walk. Steve looks at him as if wanting to say something, as if uncertain, as if not knowing how. Bucky’s never known Steve to be afraid of jumping into messy situations before. But Steve is now, because of him.
 He’s not really hungry, even though there’s Morita’s stew. He makes himself eat a few bites, being there, being part of the squad. He listens to a summary of what they’ve found—some equipment, some notes, stuff they’ll send back for study—and nods along. He wants to change; he’s wrapped in a blanket because his clothes are likely unsalvageable. Those don’t appear to be self-healing.
 He’s trying to figure out how to tell them all he’s tired and could use some rest, when Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder, and Steve says, “I know you’re okay, I just kinda think I should make sure, y’know? Want to let me take a look?”
 Bucky’s bones hurt, not physically. He’s exhausted, empty, whittled down to nothing. But it’s Steve, so he says sure, the way he always will if Steve needs reassurance.
 The Howlies, rather surprisingly, only nod and grin and elbow each other but don’t say much. Bucky’s not sure whether they’ve guessed he’s in love with Steve and they just don’t mind, or whether Steve’s impressed them all enough that they’d follow him regardless of anything. They’ve never mentioned a word about him and Steve sharing a tent.
 The firelight brushes his back, as he moves away from the heat.
 In their tent the world’s quiet and lamplit and anxious. Steve’s set out bandages and cloths, but hesitates. “You don’t…need much of this.”
 “No,” Bucky says hastily. “No, Steve, I’m good.”
 “I just…” Steve exhales. His shoulders droop a fraction. The shield’s leaning on his pack, in the corner where he’s set it down. “Can I at least…help clean this up? Some of this…” His fingers touch Bucky’s temple, Bucky’s neck.
 Bucky, who’d sort of forgotten about the head injury, has to remember; and then nods.
 A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps; but he only finds a cloth and some water, and comes back over. “Tell me if anything hurts, okay?”
 It won’t and it will. Bucky nods again.
 Steve flinches as if the nod’s been a blow, and squares his shoulders. Picks up damp cloth, and touches it to Bucky’s temple.
 Slowly, gradually, under low golden light, the blood washes away. Under Steve’s touch. Cleaned from Bucky’s skin.
 He strips off his jacket and shirt and even pants when Steve asks to see him. He stands laid bare and exposed because Steve’s asked. He glances down and over to the side, where he’s set his torn-up boots. They’ll need stitching.
 Steve’s hand draws back. The water in the bowl’s pinker and grittier now, from red and dirt. “Bucky…”
 “I’m okay,” Bucky promises immediately. “Nothing’s hurting, Stevie, I swear.”
 “Would you tell me if it was?”
 “You asked me to, right?”
 “Yeah, but…” Steve’s eyes do that complicated wince again, some sort of tangle of summer-storm emotion. “Buck…oh, Jesus, Bucky. I can’t—I just can’t—God, I couldn’t find you and I thought—”
 “It’s okay.” Bucky puts both arms around him. “Hey, punk, I’m still here, you came and got me.”
 “How many times…” Steve’s voice cracks. “How many times do I have left? Before someday I can’t—before it’s too much, before you hate me, before I can’t save you enough and I’m not there when you need me—so much blood, Buck, when I saw you, it was—I thought you were—”
 “I know what you thought.” Bucky rubs his back, the way he’d done when they were kids, when Stevie was small enough to hold and fierce enough to punch anyone who wasn’t Bucky for trying it. “I know, Steve. But it wasn’t that, okay? It’s not.”
 “I can’t lose you,” Steve whispers. His face is buried in Bucky’s hair, words landing against Bucky’s ear. “I can’t do this without you. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.”
 “I won’t. I never will. I promise, Stevie. You and me, right? To the end of the line.”
 Steve lets out a broken half-sobbing sort of noise and clutches him, and then pulls back to look him square in the eyes, and says, earnest as a vow, “I love you, Bucky.”
 Bucky, shocked, can’t answer. That’s not real. Is it?
 Steve’s expression crumples. Despair tattering all flags and banners. “I love you, and—and sometimes I think—you wouldn’t even be here if not for me, you could’ve gone home, you could’ve been safe…how can you even look at me, Jesus, everything I ask of you…everything, since we were fuckin’ kids, and I know it’s not fair to you, it’s never been fair…just keep hoping maybe if I love you enough it’ll make up for at least some of the shit I’ve dragged you through, but it doesn’t, it never does, it’s not enough, is it.”
 “You…love me,” Bucky repeats.
 “You don’t believe me.”
 “I do. I just—” He can’t think. He presses fingers between his eyes. “Of course I fucking love you, Steve. I’m head over goddamn heels in love with you. I’m sorry, my head’s fucking splitting in half.”
 Steve swears, short and self-castigating. “Shit—sorry—of course you should rest, come here, lie down—you want water, something—”
 “No. But could you…” He breathes in, gathers courage. For himself, for Steve. “Stay with me? So I can touch you? Hold onto me, kinda.”
 “Oh, Buck.” Steve’s voice wobbles. “Yeah, of course—of course I will, I’m here.” And he does: stripping off his own shirt, grabbing a blanket, lying down right there with Bucky, gathering Bucky close, folding their bodies together. “This okay?”
 “Good,” Bucky answers automatically, and then thinks about that answer for a minute. Steve’s large and solid and real. Steve’s imperfect and scared and afraid of not being enough. Bucky’s also imperfect and scared and afraid of not being enough, so maybe they’re on the same page with that one, like a mirror image, sort of.
 Steve’s hands are warm against his skin. Steve’s heartbeat’s fast and concerned and audible where Bucky’s head’s come to settle against his chest. The bed’s uncomfortable in a familiar way, the way they both know. The tent’s hushed, and lamplight’s found its way into every corner, banishing shadows for the moment.
 They’re both here. Whatever else happens, whatever comes, they’re here. They’re not alone.
 He doesn’t want to be alone, to feel alone. He wants Steve here with him.
 He doesn’t mention uncannily healing injuries, or seeing in the dark, or the way he can’t quite find equilibrium, as if something’s shaken out of true, made unrecognizable deep inside. If he’s off-balance Steve can be his balance; if Steve needs an anchor Bucky can be that.
 And they won’t be alone. Right?
 He whispers, “I love you, punk. Just makin’ sure you know.” He’s got an arm around Steve’s waist, where they’re clinging to each other: still mostly dressed and. He tightens the hold. “Not going anywhere.”
 “Good,” Steve mutters into his hair. “Good…so…okay. Okay, I’m not either. You’re here and I’m here and I fucking love you. Jerk. Bucky. Don’t fucking disappear like that, ’cause I can’t—just don’t, all right?”
 “Blame Hydra and their love of dumbass supervillain booby traps. You’ll find me, anyway.”
 “Always,” Steve promises, “always, Buck, I’ll always come for you,” and Bucky holds onto him, holds him, and lets himself listen to the words.
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the-omni-princess · 5 years
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Frozen Heart [Chapter 4]
Author: @the-omni-princess 
Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?
Word Count: 4.7K
Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)
Warnings:  Soft!Bucky, sickening fluff, a bit of language, Insecure!Bucky, nightmares
A/N:
Tell me all your comments and thoughts!!
[Series Masterlist]    [Masterlist]
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Another week passed by, and you were getting closer again with Bucky. You could tell he was still a bit apprehensive, knowing him, he was probably trying to keep the horrors of the War away from you. Yet, as promised, you waited, having patience with him. Gentle touches that lingered, random small talk, faint smiles shot across tables at meals, the progress was there. It was hard to find times to yourselves, as the entire castle was in a frenzy for Steve’s coronation.
Today was the day, and you couldn’t be prouder of Steve, seeing how hard he was working to make sure the shift between royals went as smoothly as possible. And now I’m just uncomfortable. You groaned softly, Natasha behind you, pulling the strings on your corset tighter. “Can I at least breath Nat? Damn.” You mumbled, the corset already constricting airflow to your lungs.
“You know how traditional the kingdom likes its coronations to be, dresses and corsets included,” Wanda replied for Natasha, both already dressed in proper Lady in Waiting dresses, although Wanda was technically not your lady in waiting but a healer, but semantics. “Besides y/n/n, you look amazing.” Both have already finished your make-up and hair, and now Natasha was tugging the strings of your dress together.
You chanced a glance at the full-length mirror, biting your lip as you saw yourself, it was a far cry from the loose sundresses you adored to wear. The sleeves were off the shoulder, and the corset pushed your breasts up higher. Black and gold adorned the dress, golden rings with the family crest on your fingers and phoenix gold earrings that lightly touched the edge of your shoulders. Your hair was out, the only thing in your hair was the small crown of gold and jewels on top of your head. There wouldn’t be a doubt that you were someone with power and wealth.
Nat’s head poked up from behind your shoulder, “My, my, I wonder how long into the coronation until the Northern King is practically begging for your attention,” she teased, making you blush faintly.
“Nat, it’s Steve’s coronation, and as the princess, I’ll be standing beside my parents, so no messing around. The entire kingdom will be watching,” You reminded lightly, nervously excited, despite knowing the eyes wouldn’t be specifically on you till later in the night. “And later during the ball, Steve will be announcing the Engagement to the people, and in a week, I’ll be following him to the Northern Kingdom.” To say you were nervous about the whole affair was an understatement. Announce an engagement, move with Bucky back to a kingdom you barely knew, and start acting not only as a diplomatic princess and representative to the Southern Kingdom but as the fiancé to the king of a sovereign nation. It was a lot to take in.
“You’ll be perfectly fine y/n/n, and you look lovely,” A new voice joined in, making you spin to face it. You lit up, attacking Steve in a hug, careful not to mess up his uniform.
“And you look amazing!” Steve chuckled, gently putting you down. You could already tell he was nervous, after all, the entire kingdom’s attention (not to mention the world’s attention) was on him. “You will do splendidly, and you’ll be a great king, Stevie.” You gently held his hands, smiling up at him.
He was smiling nervously, “I don’t know y/n/n, it’s all a bit much, I’m not sure I can handle it.” He was entirely serious, his hands already faintly shaking.
“Absolute and utter nonsense, Stevie. You a good, kind man, one hell of a leader, and the most beloved blondie I know. You’ll do amazing, and the kingdom will love you, they already do.” You gently squeezed his hands, letting one go to fix his hair. “Bucky and I are here for another week, and even in the North, I’m a letter or call away. You’ll have support and love, Stevie, you will do amazing things, and I cannot wait to watch.” He smiled faintly at your words, nodding.
“Geez you became so diplomatic in the years I’ve been gone,” he teased.
“And you finally hit that growth spurt,” you replied back instantly. “Oh, and Stevie? That Lady of the Court you have been ogling since you got back? Her name is Peggy Carter, you should gain some courage and actually talk to her, so I don’t have to hear all the gossip from the maids and from her.”
He went red, not realizing his crush had been caught. “I haven’t been ogling… much.” He mumbled. “Wait, you know her y/n/n?”
“She joined court a year into the war, you were too busy trying to ship yourself off you never realized she was there. She’s single too.” You poked his cheek affectionately, “Now go talk to her before the new crown scares her off.” He blinked, chuckling as he realized you were clearly trying to set him up with her.
“Alright, alright, but hurry up y/n/n, Buck’s going to want to see this.” He teased, noticing your blush as he spoke. He quickly walked out the door, off to find his place before the coronation.
Glancing at the clock you groaned, “Come on girls, we are going to end up being late soon.” You gladly took one of each of Nat’s and Wanda’s hands in your own, Nat to your right and Wanda to your left, as you quickly made your way to the throne room. Cameras were already set up, and the few presses allowed in were making comments into small mics, as they would not be allowed to speak once the ceremony started.
Dropping hands, the girls managed to steer your way from the press, leading you to your place beside your parents who were sitting on their respective thrones. Both girls went to their respective spots behind you to the side, close but away. Your eyes ran through the crowd, noting the royals. King T’Challa, Princess Shuri, King Thor, Prince Loki, among a few representatives and warriors your mind provided you with the names for. Hiding off to a corner were the Howling Commandoes, dressed up in the military colors of their respective nations. You smiled, noticing Bucky, despite having the higher birth and the ability to sit near the other royals, opted to stand beside “his Howlies.”
He was already looking at you, smiling faintly as one of the Howlies, Jim Morita you believed, leaned over and said something in his ear. You subtly nodded towards him in acknowledgment, unable to do more than that under the glares of the cameras.
Then the coronation started. As beautiful and patriotic as it was, your eyes kept wandering away from Steve and onto Bucky. Similarly, he also couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The crowd applauded, prompting you to turn back towards the throne, Steve now sitting on the King’s throne, a golden crown on his head. He locked eyes with you and you gave an encouraging smile. You’ll be a great king, Stevie.
-----
Time was moving too fast, you decided. One moment you were in the throne room, the next you were in the banquet hall. As the crown princess, and now technical next in line for the throne since Steve was on the throne, and being a woman of age, every eligible bachelor of wealth and power seemed to try for your hand. You turned everyone down, unable to give the reasoning that you were already engaged, simply dancing with whoever asked. You felt eyes on you throughout the evening, already very aware it was Bucky, you finally decided to take a break from dancing. Stepping away from your current dance partner, King Thor of Asgard, with a small curtsy, you rushed as daintily as possible to the bar. Downing the whiskey was easy, momentarily forgetting the princess attitude you were supposed to be currently using. You grabbed a glass of red wine before leisurely heading towards Steve, saving him from the onslaught of women going for the crown instead of the man.
Placing an arm in his you gave your best smile, “Sorry girls, I need to steal the King for a moment,” not waiting for any replies you practically dragged him to the balcony.
He sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Gods, you’re a lifesaver y/n/n, thought my head was going to be bitten off.”
“But that would just make your new crown all bloody,” Bucky’s voice rang out on the quiet balcony as he joined you, standing on the opposite side of you from Steve, causing you to chuckle at the comment.
You smiled faintly up at the two of them, “Are we doing this whole engagement thing yet? My feet are going to fall off if I have to dance with one more person who isn’t either of you two, and I positively cannot breathe in this stupid thing.” You sipped from the glass, your eyes falling back to the view of the ocean, storms brewing in the distance.
Steve sighed softly, “I guess you have been tortured enough sister, and after all, you did save me from those rabid women.”
“Not the worst thing to have attacking you,” you teased, placing the now empty glass on a table. “Now, am I going to have to beg one of you to dance with me or will I have to find Prince Loki? At least he knows how to dance, unlike some of the other royals.” Both men chuckled, Steve was the first to grab your hand, leading you back inside.
Bucky’s right hand was offered towards you, his blue eyes sparkled in mischief the second the three of you were back inside. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?”
A slow song was just starting, making you smile, “I’d love to, My King.” You took his hand, noticing he wasn’t jumping back. He led you to the dance floor, twirling you playfully as you laughed, before pulling you in flush against his chest. You looked up at him, biting your lip faintly as you danced slowly in time with the music, allowing him to lead the two of you. His right hand was laced with your left hand, your right hand perched on his shoulder brushing against the metal of his shoulder, his left hand pressed gently against the small of your back. The cool metal made you realize how hot you had become, and it suddenly hit you that this was the first time he felt comfortable enough to even left his left hand even touch you. Baby steps. You no doubt had some stupid love-sick grin on your face.
“You look wonderful, y/n,” Bucky spoke softly, his head gently pressed the top of your own, careful not to hit your crown. “And I can already imagine your own coronation,” He teased.
“We have a few steps before this crown changes to your Kingdom’s colors,” you teased back, smiling faintly as you leaned into him, his cologne intoxicating. “And you look amazing as well, Bucky.” The two of you kept dancing slowly, pressed against each other, firm enough that no other royal bothered either of you, but light enough that you didn’t feel like you were being suffocated. Even as the song ended, and Steve had everyone’s attention, Bucky kept his hand pressed to your lower back.
“Good evening everyone, I hope you are enjoying the festivities,” Steve held a microphone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, soon turning his smile towards you. “Tonight, we actually have some big news to share, our lovely Princess Y/n,” you felt multiple eyes shift towards you, prompting Bucky’s hand to gently press harder against you, grounding you. “Has agreed to marry King James of the Northern Lands, ensuring prosperity between both of our Kingdoms, as well as a stronger alliance.” Applause responded to your brother’s words, and you smiled shyly, glad Bucky’s hand was acting as your anchor. “To the newly engaged happy couple,” Steve raised his glass, the rest of the hall following suit, making you blush.
“Come on doll, one more dance, this time officially,” Bucky whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, his breath fanning against your neck before you looked up towards him.
“Lead the way, My King,” you smiled, letting Bucky take you to the dance floor for another dance, this one a traditional waltz from your kingdom. Bucky’s moves were a bit rough, as it had been years since he had to even attend a ball, let alone one in your kingdom where this specific waltz would play. You laughed faintly, fixing his right hand to press against your own right hand as you two twirled together to the music. “Almost have it, just let loose Bucky,” you teased, making him blush as you lead the two of you through the dance.
----
You lost your sense of time as the two of you danced, your aching feet and tight corset seemingly caught up with you, making you hiss softly as you turned in a twirl. Bucky noticed instantly, slowing the dance down to a sway. “Ready to call it a night, princess?” he teased the nickname, his right thumb gently rubbing circles on your waist.
You nodded, “I guess I got lost in the dancing, I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten.” It was significantly darker outside, with fewer people in the ballroom. Natasha and Wanda were nowhere to be seen as you looked around the room. “Will you please walk me to my room, Bucky?” you asked softly, looking up at him.
He was already smiling down towards you, grinning as he brought your hands up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. “You’ve read my mind, doll.” He kept hold of your hand, happily leading you out the ballroom and towards your chambers. “Tonight’s been amazing y/n/n, I’ve missed your dancing.”
You grinned mischievously, seeing an easy opening for a joke. “And I’ve missed your terrible excuse for waltzing.”
He chuckled, smiling warmly towards you as you made your way through the halls. “Not as bad as Stevie’s dancing.”
You laughed, “He’s absolutely terrible, I have given up on him honestly. You, however, are getting better, just need a bit more practice.” The two of you stopped just outside of your chamber doors, the only guard being replaced by Sam, who walked up behind you.
“Hopefully I will be a better dancing on our wedding night.” He teased softly, making you blush.
“That would be ideal.” You kept your hands locked together, gathering the courage to say what you wanted. “Bucky? Would you like to come inside? It’s not too late, we could drink tea or watch a movie.” You tried not to seem too desperate, wanting to spend a bit more time with him.
He smiled warmly, “I’d love to, doll. How about you get changed into the fluffiest pajamas you can find, find a movie, and get comfortable, while I’ll go get changed in my rooms?”
You lit up, already letting go of his hands, rushing towards your open door. “Well hurry Bucky! You’ve missed some great movies you absolutely need to watch!”
He chuckled, “Alright, I’m going, be back soon, princess.” He turned on his heel, already heading to his own room to change as well.
You grinned, turning back towards your door, Sam smirking, making you roll your eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen, Sam, it’s just a movie.”
“I’m not judging, either way, Your Highness, have fun.” He smiled playfully.
“I will, and Sam? Will you please fetch a maid to have popcorn and ice cream brought over?” You quickly told him the flavors, grinning.
He nodded, “Of course, Your Highness,” He closed the door behind you.
Rushing to change, you let out a breath in relief as you undid your corset and tossed your shoes into your walk-in closet. A problem for later you or Natasha for torturing you into the corset in the first place. You changed into pajama shorts and a t-shirt, tossing extra fluffy blankets onto your king-sized bed as you turned the tv on, flipping through the movies. Definitely would have to be a Disney or Pixar movie, and you wanted it to be one Bucky hadn’t seen yet.
You were stuck between Coco and Moana as someone knocked on the chamber doors. “Come in!” You called, smiling as Bucky walked in, now in pajamas as well.
He held up the platter of ice cream and popcorn in his hands, that he no doubt stole from the maid on his way here. “You thought of just about everything doll, even my favorite ice cream flavor.” He set the platter down on the bed in front of you, as you were already curled up in a fluffy blanket, as he sat beside you.
“Wanted to be prepared. Now, for the important questions. Should we watch Coco or Moana? Both are amazing, but I can’t quite decide which we should watch. Oh! And we should fix the blankets to get comfy.”
He chuckled, gently pulling you closer, his leg now pressed against yours. “How about Coco? Stevie said it made him cry. And you look very comfy y/n/n.” he teased, making you blush faintly. Gods I missed this sweet side of him.
You selected the movie, “Coco it is, and for the record, you could always get comfier.”
He chuckled, “Duly noted, doll.” As the movie progressed, the two of you ate the popcorn and ice cream. You were so caught up in the movie, you didn’t realize how close the two of you were lying beside each other on the bed, nor that Bucky kept glancing towards you.
Without realizing it, you leaned your head on his shoulder, staying like that for a minute before you realized what you did, shooting up. “Oh shit! I’m s-sorry Buck, I didn’t mean to invade your space or anything, I should have asked, or I shou-“ Bucky gently took your hands in his own, making you realize you were speaking with your hands wildly.
“Y/n/n? It’s okay. Seriously, you’re an absolute dream. Your patient and still the kindest, sweetest, loyalist woman I’ve ever met. I don’t have a problem with small touches like that when it comes to you, doll.” He admitted softly, blushing faintly as he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I just need a bit of time for anything too major between us.”
Your eyes went wide, effectively calmed down. “Oh… I’m sorry for freaking out then, Bucky.” You said softly, looking up towards him, now realizing how close your faces were.
He chuckled faintly, and you could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke, “You don’t have to constantly apologize for, doll, you’re my fiancé, what is mine is yours, cuddles included.” You could tell he was both teasing you and entirely serious.
You relaxed, going back to leaning gently on his shoulder as he kissed your head, resuming the movie. “That’s good because I love cuddles.” You deadpanned, making him laugh. The two of you settled back into the bed, his arm around you as if protecting you as you cuddled. As the world dimmed and your brain started to send itself off to sleep, you realized the cold arm wrapped so protectively around you was his metal arm.
----
You woke with a start, eyes wide as you sat up, looking for the source of the noise that awoke you so suddenly. As your groggy mind started to wake, the night’s activities begun to sink in, you must have fallen asleep next to Bucky, but currently, your bed was empty. The clock on the bedside informed you it was a bit past three am. Your hand pressed against the disheveled sheets beside you, it was still warm, so Bucky couldn’t have gone far. That’s when you noticed the balcony door was open, the curtains moving slightly in the night breeze.
Holding the bedsheets around your body tightly, you stood and made your way to the balcony. “Bucky?” You called out softly, seeing his figure hunched over the railing slightly.
He sniffled softly as he turned at the sound of your voice. “Y/n/n? Shit, did I wake you up? Gods, I’m sorry, Doll.” His voice was grave with sleep. Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes were red and wet, his face flush. He had been crying.
You frowned, already coming closer. “Oh Bucky, what happened, baby?” The pet name slipped off your tongue so naturally, you didn’t question it, your only concern being the crying man in front of you.
Suddenly aware of how he must look he quickly turned again, hiding his face from you. “It’s nothing, just a nightmare. Go back to sleep, Doll, I’ll be fine” he said quickly, you realized his voice didn’t sound grave because of sleep but because of the tears.
Your frown deepened in concern, coming to stand beside him, “I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. Please, just talk to me, it doesn’t have to be about what you saw.” You spoke softly, wanting him to turn towards you. “I’m here for you Bucky, no matter what, and however you need me.” You pulled the sheets off of yourself, gently placing them around his shoulders. He visibly relaxed against the sheets when your fingers grazed his neck.
Deciding to take a chance as he kept quiet, you very slowly reached for his right hand. You knew he was watching you, as he tensed briefly, but didn’t say a word. Running your fingertips across the top of his hand that was gripping the railing, you gently pried his hand from the metal bar. You gingerly laced your fingers into his calloused hand, your thumb already rubbing small circles into his palm, letting yourself be his anchor to the real world. A small sob escaped his lips at the gesture, the walls around his heart were quickly being demolished by you, no matter how hard he tried to keep them up. “I’ll always be here for you Bucky, no matter what those dreams showed you, this is real. Now, here, that’s real.” You reminded softly, still gently rubbing circles into his hand.
He choked on another small sob, “I do not deserve your kindness doll, I’m a monster, I’m weak,” his voice was so soft and broken you almost missed his words. You gently tugged his hand, getting him to slightly turn, you were finally able to see his face again. Silent tears streamed his cheeks, as he kept his sniffles soft, terrified of showing weakness, but unable to stop the flood of emotions he was drowning in.
By now, the frown on your face was starting to hurt, upset at the world for breaking the boy you knew until he thought nothing of himself. Taking your free hand, you gently and very slowly wiped his tears with your thumb, before delicately cupping his cheek with your palm. He leaned into your touch easily, you knew he must be petrified but clearly touch starved. “Oh Bucky, baby boy, you deserve the world.” You spoke with conviction, making sure he heard your every word. “What happened to you and your family was not your fault. What you did as a result of that abuse should not be held against you. You were only bringing those men to justice, and you were protecting what family you had left. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are the softest yet strongest man I have ever known. You deserve kindness and so much more. You deserve love.”
He looked seconds from more tears, he knew he must have looked like an absolute mess. His brain was foggy, the terrors from the night slipping away, and he was drunk on the woman in front of him’s very touch. He leaned into your hand that rested against his cheek, savoring the small touch before you inevitable rushed away from him in disgust once you saw the truth. “I’m scared y/n/n,” he closed his eyes, not wanting to see you turn away from him. “That once I show you exactly what I’ve done, you’ll leave me too. I cannot lose you too y/n/n.” He practically whispered, and you noticed his hand was shaking, nervous of your reaction.
“Bucky, I’m not going anywhere,” the hand at his face gently wiped the new tears forming. You took a deep breath, gathering up the courage for your words, knowing he needed to hear them. “I have loved you since we were children before I even knew what love meant, before I learned of responsibilities, before I learned of the cruelty of the world. I will stay beside you no matter what has happened, no matter what you have done, and no matter what will happen. As your friend, your confidant, your wife, and your Queen; as simply yours. You have owned my heart since the day we met as children, laughing as we ran circles around Stevie in the ballroom, and hiding from the maids in the gardens. I knew even then I would do anything to be in your life, no matter the cost. I still would. You might be different but you’re still you, Bucky.” His eyes were now locked onto yours in pure awe and adoration. You had meant every word, and even though you were engaged to the man in front of you, a small part of your heart fell, panic-stricken that he did not return your afflictions.
He turned away from the railing his metal hand now resting at your waist. Ever so carefully, he used it to pull you closer to him. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his eyes taking in every detail of your eyes as if memorizing your very soul. Your faces were mere inches from each other, and now you could feel his warm breath against your lips, mirroring the position you were in earlier that night. Though now he knew every wall he had built up to protect you from himself was cracked and breaking, a few already demolished entirely. To him, you were the missing key in his life.
You couldn’t say quite who initiated it first, as both of your minds were lost trying to take in every feature of the other, but as the two of you kissed, you couldn’t find it in you to care who started it. Your daydreams of kissing him were completely shattered by the reality of it. His lips were as soft as velvet, and while salty from his tears, the intimacy of the kiss was making you melt. Bucky Barnes was a perfect kisser. He was warm and soft, yet he was also hard and protective, his metal arm now wrapped around your body as his lips devoured yours.
His kisses were fiery with desperation as if this would be the last time he would be able to kiss you, yet they were gentle and slow as if taking his time memorizing the taste of you. His tongue lightly traced your bottom lip, and you blissfully opened your lips, allowing him access into your mouth. He deepened the kiss, tenderly holding you as ravaged your lips. You lightly bit and sucked on his bottom lip, a dark growl erupting from deep in Bucky’s throat, sending heat directly to your core.
He broke the kiss first, much to your dismay, both of you practically gasping for air. His pupils were dilated, a small ring of baby blue around pure black sin. His lips were deep pink in the moonlight, kiss swelled, and no doubt yours were as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” You reminded lightly, his grip on your hand and waist tightening faintly in acknowledgment.
“You’re my Northern Star, Doll.” He whispered softly. You smiled warmly, deciding to ask him what he meant in the morning. You successfully tugged him back inside, and he settled into bed beside you, pulling you close to him. Your back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you as your eyes closed. Bucky pressed his face against the top of your head, letting his eyes close as well as he kissed your hair. As the depths of sleep started to tug you back you could have sworn you heard a small voice whisper. “I love you too.”
----
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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years
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BBB Week 8 Roundup!  
Some amazing fills made this week, go forth and appreciate our creators!
Title: Flower Petals Collaborator: writing-what-writing Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K5 - Hanahaki disease Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Gen Major Tags: very light angst Summary: Bucky’s been coughing up flowers and the only cure is if you love him back Word Count: 863
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Title:  I’d Do It Again Collaborator: startrekkingaroundasgard Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U2 - Queer Platonic Relationship Ship: Bucky/Bruce Rating: Teen Major Tags: mention of torture, mild violence and threat Summary: After he is kidnapped, Bucky rescues Bruce from a facility which is trying to separate him from the Hulk. Word Count: 1620
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Title: As the Spirits Guide Us Collaborator: 27dragons Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Chapter 3 - K1: Poison Chapter 4 - K2: Dark Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Prehistoric, Running Away, Spirit Animals, totem spirits, Coming of Age, Sharing a Meal, Sex, Frottage Summary: The Clan of the Hydra value’s Bucky’s skill as a flintknapper but despises him for being a crippled outsider. The Clanchief, in particular, seems to enjoy watching Bucky suffer. Bucky dreams of escaping, of finding a home with a new Clan, one which will treat him kindly. A talented maker and only child of the Keeper of the Way, Tony has only to complete this last rite before he can fully assume his place as an adult of the Star Clan. On this journey, the spirit-talker assures him, the spirits will bring him to meet his destined mate. Tony is pretty sure the selection of his mate has less to do with the spirits than with the machinations of his mother and the clan chief. Little do either of them know what the spirits have in store. Word Count: 5713
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Title: A sketch in red Collaborator: Nivelle Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y4 - Seeing Red Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art  Summary: art
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Title: A Night at the Nat - Chapter 4 Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 - apology Ship: Bucky/Clint/Tony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: werewolf & supernatural AU, minor injuries/blood, eventual smut Summary: The fancy restaurant isn’t the only reason Clint feels out of his depth. Even though his dinner companions are clearly devoted to one another, they keep flirting with him. Maybe accepting this invitation wasn’t such a good idea. Word Count: 4701
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Title: Fire in My Soul - Chapter 1 Collaborator: squadrickchestopher Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - free space Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Explicit Major Tags: graphic depictions of violence Summary: Natasha interrupts him. “So here’s what happened,” she says, letting her irritation bleed into her voice and her expression. Clint ducks his head even lower. “You two morons got the bright idea to get busy on a magic altar while wearing a magic amulet. Somehow, this triggered some kind of spell, and—I can’t believe this is an actual thing I’m about to say—it turned you both into little dragons.” Bucky stares at Clint, then looks down at his own claws. Then he looks back up at Nat. “What the fuck?” Word Count: 5442
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Title: Art Collaborator: startrekkingaroundasgard Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y1 - nerd Bucky Ship: Bucky & Peter Rating: Gen Major Tags: art  Summary: Bucky had always loved science fiction. He loved to get lost in the wonder of what was possible and consider how the future could be better. When he joined the Avengers, Peter soon learned of Bucky’s interest and immediately got him started on every major sci-fi franchise he had missed over the years. Star Wars ended up being his favourite and when Peter came in brandishing his new, fully functioning lightsaber Bucky couldn’t resist having a go with the weapon. That quickly lead to costumes and a fully fledged photo shoot to commemorate the occasion. 
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Title: Red Carpet Rescue Mission Collaborator: darter_blue Link: AO3 Square Filled: B3 - Rescue Mission Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: meet cute Summary: Bucky Barnes can totally do this, he can fumble his way through a red carpet event and not lose his brand new nationally televised lifestyle presenter gig... he just has to remember to ask questions about the premier and NOT composting (being that he is, in fact, a Gardener and not an entertainment reporter). And when he sees a fellow sufferer in need of saving from all the lights, cameras, and hubbub, of course he's going to sidle over and be a friendly face. Except the poor, unfashionable gentleman perhaps isn't a ring in like Bucky imagined, is perhaps more famous than he looks?Is perhaps actually a real life superhero? This is just fluff and more fluff of disaster Bucky and an always charmed Captain America... Word Count: 5328
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Title: Arboreal: Songbird protocol moodboard Collaborator: menatiera Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B4 - Sunrise/Sunset Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Fluff, Bucky Barnes Needs A Hug, (Arm Maintenance), moodboard Summary: Moodboard for the fic Songbird Protocol by Arboreal. Fic summary: Tony apparently has a thing for musicians. It’s brand new information for him, but Bucky is irresistible.
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Title: we could take a chance, we could make it Collaborator: velvetjinx Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 -  partner in crime Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: historical AU Summary: Bucky likes to steal treasure. Steve likes to steal it back for its rightful owners. But when they have to team up to fight a common enemy and sparks fly, will either of them be willing to risk their hearts? Word Count: 5385
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Title: When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it) - Chapter 2 Collaborator: riotfalling Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C3 - free space Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: non-graphic injury and violence Summary: There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch. And one tiny little bed. (Now with chapter 2, because no bed sharing fic is truly complete until they’re home.) Word Count: 2.5k
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Title: Inspired By You Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y5 - Invisibility Ship: Teen Rating: Bucky & Tony Major Tags: AU artist/muse, smutty inspiration Summary: It was very hard work being a muse. Especially when the person being inspired absolutely refuses to be around the source of that inspiration. Word Count: 1004
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Title: A Quiet Moment Collaborator: Caiti (Caitriona_3) Link: AO3 Square Filled: B3 - Hair braiding Ship: Bucky/Clint/Darcy Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Polyamory Summary: Natasha and Bucky spend a quiet moment together. Word Count: 1561
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Title: Funerals Are Expensive. Get Well Soon. Collaborator: Ribbonsflying Link: AO3 Square Filled: C5 - Sharing Body Heat Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: funeral home, morticians Summary: “Is this the part where we turn from morticians into ghost hunters?” Sam asked as they flipped out the basement lights and locked the door back behind them. ”I sure hope not.” The men began their hustle back up toward the state rooms out front when they passed the cooler and heard the noise again. Steve and Sam both stopped in their tracks. “Is that-“ Steve turned on his heel and pointed toward the refrigerated room where people’s bodies were stored.“You know I ain’t ever been scared of dead people,” Sam answered, “...but if someone in that fridge is knocking, all you’re gonna see of my brown ass is a pinprick on the horizon as I get the hell away from here as fast as I can move.” === Did you know there's a woman who has a medical condition that has caused her to go to wake up in a morgue on three separate occasions? This is a story where Bucky has that same condition. Word Count: 7382
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Title: Beetles Collaborator: Justamanlymouse Link: AO3 Square Filled: U5 - Bucky/Steve Ship: Stucky, WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Howlie memories, Light angst, tw bugs Summary: Steve hears Morgan singing a lullaby that James used to sing to him and remembers the last time he heard it.“You know the wormy song? James sings it to me before bed.” He’s going to fucking vomit. “Oh yeah?” he manages. “Yeah.” she says, molding dirt very seriously with a little spade, “Said he used to sing it to you and it helped you go to sleep. You remember that?” Word Count: 721
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shieldedsouls · 4 years
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( v; lined with blood and snow | turned werewolf!bucky » battlesthatmatter ) / ( v; bigger than you and me | turned werewolf!james » battlesthatmatter )
      they’re running out of time. he’s not even sure how he’s still conscious right now, not sure he isn’t hallucinating that steve’s rescuing him. can’t be steve, he’s too big and too strong and fuck it’s so loud, too loud, too much. shock and a desire to be someplace quiet are the only things really keeping him going. bucky feels like he doesn’t fit in his own skin anymore, an itch he can’t place to any one particular spot. awareness comes and goes.
                     at some point awareness comes back and he realises he’s on the floor, not sure how he got there and only upright because steve was kneeling next to him. something about needing to stay conscious, bucky nodding because he knows if he tries to say “ i’m fine ” neither of them will believe it. it’s still too loud, and trying to move is like in those dreams where your body is heavier than it oughta be so you aren’t getting anywhere as fast as you need to. steve manages to get him back to his feet though, and he figures keeping the other man ahead of him will be a good focus, waves him onward as they try to find a way out of this hellhole.
maybe he’s already dead and this is some fucked up afterlife punishment.
     red skull peeling his fucking face off is pretty horrifying. unfortunately, scarringly, all too clear in detail despite the haze that’s otherwise clinging to the brunet. and even so, he’s not totally sure he isn’t making all of this up, skin prickling at a question from steve he only sort of registers. it’s the tone more than the words that he nods yes to, exhausted to the bone but still moving because steve needs him to.
      it’s outside that they finally pause, on their own briefly in the darkness, and bucky practically collapses against him. adrenaline only acts so long and he’s strung out, almost certain no one’s let him sleep for the last few days. a comment he’s about to idly joke about except steve’s got an arm around him ( fuck is he really cold or is the other just warmer than he’s been used to? ), a mumble of apology this can’t be real steve never apologises, not like this as his shirt is being pulled aside, and then PAIN. teeth against his shoulder, he realises very belatedly, heart pounding in his ears and fingernails digging into the blond’s forearm and quite possibly tears tracking down his face. there might have been some weak attempt to make a noise out of sheer panic, but steve hugs him tighter, leaving him breathless, leaving him open, leaving him vulnerable as darkness edges into his vision to swallow him up.
          bucky has some clue-in about monsters being part of the fight only after what transpires at azzano. between that and being rescued by steve however, there’s little learning done until after the fact, and possibly the only reason he’s able to stay out there during the war is because @battlesthatmatter​ turns him.
                         this is the distinction of getting to be the first added member to rogers’s pack, the bond made more intense by where their friendship already was before the serum. barnes is loyal to rogers only by that point, and willingly follows the other wolf anywhere, even against orders to the contrary. it doesn’t make him hugely popular amongst command, but the howlies are their own group anyway so he gives about zero fucks on the issue.
          that said, he struggles a lot with the change. not just the new levels of aggression and the lack of control as the moon waxes and wanes, but the contagion factor. one nearly lethal mistake results in dugan becoming part of the pack, something he apologises for almost daily until the fall from the train.
                           post-train is tricky. there’s even less control, and it takes hydra a long time to get not only his mind under their lead but for the wolf side to listen as well. being a wolf made fighting against them much easier initially, it wasn’t unusual to end up tranquilized just so they could get the bodies out. the howl he made when he heard rogers was gone drew more than just other wolves from miles around. he was dangerous and desperate until that collapse, fully expecting it would be the eventual death of himself. however in the hell they managed it, eventually both sides of barnes are under hydra’s control for the next several decades, aside from an incident here or there. they didn’t like to let him shift because it burned through conditioning faster, and a lot of methods were used to keep him contained or in human form when not actively on a mission or in cryo.
                                  up until he comes face to face with rogers again.
     that day is the first full and proper shift he’s been able to have in years and being called back in is what ends the fight more than because either of them have a full victory. it’s enough to do significant damage to the controls on him though, and unsurprisingly by the time the helicarriers go down he’s free enough to be confused about what he’s been doing, angry enough to not stay with rogers, and scared enough to make himself scarce.
 barnes has to rediscover his own nature, and hope his mistakes aren’t going to leave anyone worse for wear or drag them into the danger that follows in his wake.
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thestuckylibrary · 5 years
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Group Ask 114
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Anon 1 said:
Hi, love ur blog. I am looking for a fic that was recommended on here the other day but now I can’t find it. But Bucky is like a Russian translator for stark industries and Steve is like a website something for stark and Steve has like 2 friends (Sam and Nat) and they go to a masquerade kink club. I think the title had the word tell in it. Sorry this is vague, please help me find it.
princessniitza and thestrawblizzard sent in Time After Time by elle1991 (complete | 124,026 | E) - major character tag, heed the tags!
Anon 2 said:
i read a fic yesterday that i don't remember and it was about steve and bucky driving in one of tonys cars (it was a white sports car) and steve drives really fast which turns him on, getting him hard and when bucky notices they end up on the side of the road fucking on the hood of tonys car. oh and the author recommended listening to a song called the boys in the bright white sports car on repeat while reading. do you perhaps know what fic i mean?
thestrawblizzard sent in The Boys in the Bright White Sports Car by Layora88 (oneshot | 10,804 | E)
Anon 3 said:
Okay, so, real Bucky dies and HYDRA clons his DNA, creating a baby tws but nat and clint finds him, gives him to peggy and he becomes james carter?? sam is transgender and has a crush on james for a little while? also, james is a linguist who works shield and someone puts tws files on his desk for him to find out?? oh and tws, bucky and james have a meet up! thanks
buckysoldatbarnes sent in Have To Put Him On A Shelf by herecomesbucktofuckshitup (complete | 124,726 | M) - bucky/sam
Anon 4 said:
hey, could you help me find this fic? i've spent ages combing through ao3 for it. pretty short, under 10k for sure, about steve and bucky being (college?) athletes and hooking up. steve was openly gay and bucky came out to him as bi and i think that's all i remember. thank you 🙏
Anon 5 said:
Hi!! I read this doc a while back where both Steve and Bucky were deserumed (at different times I think), and I was wondering if you could find it.
Anon 6 said:
hey i’m looking for this fic where one of them (i think it’s bucky) has bandages on his hands so he can’t jack off and steve gives him a hand job??
papayacrossing said:
I was looking for a sort of time-travel fic I can’t seem to find anywhere. Avengers+stucky are sent back to the area of time after Steve put down the plane. Peggy smuggles then from the SSR to one of Howard’s mansions where Jarvis is. Then she calls in the Howlies and the Barnes family to confirm Steve and bucky’s identities before Avengers co. are sent home. Thanks for all your hard work, appreciate it!
Anon 7 said:
I'm looking for a college au fic where Steve and Bucky sign up for a psych experiment. They don't know each other but the experiment requires them to maintain physical contact while answering questions. Also Bucky fake dated Natasha to cover that he was gay and that she was in a poly relationship(maybe?). I think they end up at one of their dorms. Thank you!
Anon 8 said:
Hi there! I wanted to say that your blog is wonderful, thank you!!! I was wondering if you know of a stucky fic where Bucky is recovering/recovered after WS and sneakily helps out the avengers on missions to the point that he is in the tower's vents a bunch, talking to them? If it helps, I remember a specific scene being some enemy agents of some sort attack Pepper and Bucky dropped out of the vents and beheaded a dude? Also Clint had hideyholes in the vents? (Sorry this ask is so long, tysm!!!)
Anon sent in On My Radar by sprinkle_of_cinnamon (oneshot | 19,564 | M)
Anon 9 said:
Hi im looking for a war fic. Where steve and bucky are sleeping together and bucky has a nightmare and wakes up. He start talking about how steve is not the same that hes this machine they made and they talk about going back home bc bucky think hes not going back. Theyre really close together and they have their first kiss. Its steve point of view,its angsty AF and they even talk about going back to sleep bc tomorrow they will catch zola.
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striving-artist · 5 years
Text
Soft Things
Bucky centric Angst. Dark themes. Non-physical self harm. Angst. Stuckoni, with stories of World War Threesome. Angst. You’ve been warned. 
He had a good run. Two hundred and eighteen days.
That was nothing to dismiss.
Longest stretch he’d been in one place since the train. There’d been four months in a town outside Prague, but he’d been hiding in the back of an abandoned factory, scrabbling together memories then. It wasn’t like this.
Showing up in the common room of Avenger’s Tower when the team came in for breakfast, every one of his weapons on the table in front of him, unsure if he’d be executed on the spot or handed to some government agency who would then execute him on the spot. Staying hadn’t ever occurred to him. Stark putting her brilliance into fixing the damaged arm. Tasha talking in quiet Russian. Steve on a PR circuit once the news broke.
Bucky had prepared himself for a lot of things while he made his decision to go to them. He hadn’t anticipated being welcomed.
Maybe it was the crueler choice.
If they’d done what he expected, it would have been simpler.
He couldn’t think about that now.
His arm punched into the center of the console, tore out the important pieces, found anything that might have the mission logs on it, crushed them into dust, and flipped the table. It looked like the agents in the location had smashed it, not him.
The Avengers finished the mission.
He climbed onto the jet.
Bucky was always quiet after missions targeting old Hydra bases.
No one bothered him.
***
Seventy years after the fact, Bucky couldn’t prove that it was Peggy’s idea to seduce him into bed with the pair of them. Steve had been an eager enabler of it, but Bucky thought that it had started in the mind of Agent Carter. After all, she was always the one to find him.
She slipped up next to him in a camp or a town where they were bunking for the night. Never said a word. She stood at his side like she was surveying whatever he was. Like she was waiting on line to talk to the requisition officer. She’d wait until he caved and looked at her. And he always did eventually.
Then she’d walk away. Bucky tracked her path, and a few minutes later, followed.
Then Peggy’d drag him into a room or a dark corner where Steve was waiting for them.
For all the dancing around each other they’d done, he and Stevie had never so much as loaned each other a helping hand. Not until she came along.
So in a lot of ways, it wasn’t a shock when Toni, who had been with Steve for more than a year, started to stare at him with a hunger he recognized. Maybe it hadn’t been Peggy to start the idea after all.
***
He didn’t think things could hurt him anymore. Not after everything that they’d done to him while the world was made of ice and blood. Not after the way that he’d torn off anything that could feel, desperate for a moment where his mind wasn’t screaming. He didn’t think there were parts of him left that could still feel this kind of pain.
It was worse for not confirming it.
Maybe that was why it ached with every beat of his heart.
If he knew for sure, then he’d be able to let it go, or tear that part off too.
He was a coward though.
He told himself it was because he didn’t have a way to check it without Jarvis noticing, but it was a damn lie. There were half a dozen methods he could use to find the information he needed that the AI couldn’t have tracked.
Nothing but fear. That was all that kept him in limbo.
Did he or didn’t he.
Was he or wasn’t he.
For a few weeks, he let it fester.
He let the question rot through his gut, and eat away the progress he’d made and becoming a person.
It couldn’t be ignored forever
Mission Report.  Package obtained. Source eliminated. Dec 16, 1991.
It couldn’t be ignored.
***
Steve kissed the way he always had.
Like he thought he’d get pushed away at any second. Like it was something special. And like nothing else mattered in the world while he had his hands on Bucky. Sometimes Bucky wondered if that was just for him, or if Steve Rogers kissed everyone like that.
He didn’t know which he liked more.
Steve who was just for him, or that his Stevie was so good he handed his heart to everyone he met. Bucky had left pieces of himself in the smears of blood and violence that marked his path through the century. He’d carved away all the soft pieces of himself, and welcomed it when he turned hollow inside.
Steve kissed him and Bucky found himself clinging to that delicate shard of goodness.
Toni pressed along his front and whispered sweet things, woven through with jokes and barbs while she made it clear that she didn’t plan to let him get away. She kissed him. A promise and a challenge she goaded him into accepting. Lipstick tasted different in the future.
The pair of them.
God.
Steve had always attracted crazy like moths to a porchlight.
Howlies. Peggy. Avengers.
Bucky. Worse than the rest.
Watching as Steve kissed the woman he loved, and knowing he’d say yes every damn time they invited him.
***
They were worried about him.
It made him hurt worse.
It made the bit of softness they���d given him scream.
He needed to tear that off, get rid of it. He could only hurt where he was soft. Ice and steel and armor didn’t feel pain. But Bucky didn’t want to lose the twin gifts they’d handed him.
His head wanted to remember it. The details or the faces or the confirmation, something was lingering in the back of his mind, and every time it crept closer to the light so he could identify it, Bucky pushed. Shoved it into the dark where he wouldn’t have to know. Ignorance wouldn’t stop what was coming, but he could pretend a little longer. He could hold onto those joys they’d handed to him so freely.
Each time he turned back to those soft things, gently recollecting what they meant, he found new cracks in their delicate facades.
It wasn’t going to last much longer.
He couldn’t keep ignoring it.
***
Steve never knew how to let it go. Toni didn’t know how to let something sit unfixed.
After three weeks they ambushed him.
His favorite foods, the nature documentary with the soft british voice, comfortable clothes, and the lights low in the penthouse while the rain pattered against the glass.
They didn’t know why he needed it, but they were trying to help.
Toni talked gently to him as she dragged her nails through his hair, told him about the bots and how Dum-E’s love of smoothies came from her obsession with them in college. Steve slowly tricked Bucky into curling onto the couch between them. Convinced Bucky they’d keep him safe. Told him that Bucky didn't need to explain what it was if he didn’t want to, but asked if the pair could please take care of him for the night.
He shouldn’t.
He didn’t deserve them.
They gave him kindness too freely, not noticing that his smiles were paper thin and his jokes were told by rote. He was just pretending to be this man he could only remember in pieces. He was a reflection, not a person. But he wanted them to smile at him, so he clung to bits he had and let them believe it was true.
They wanted him to be happier. They didn’t pry at his broken edges, just let him exist, and kept handing him gifts. They handed him little soft things for him to treasure, one after the next. They always did. Anytime he let them close, they gave him more.  
He couldn’t ignore the thing he knew much longer.
But they were asking, they were offering.
And he was weak.
He let them draw him out of the dark in his mind. It would only be a night, and then he’d have to know, but he took Toni’s hand when she reached for him. He kissed them, touched them, trying to hand back every kindness they’d ever shown him, trying to even the debt he owed. Instead they gave him more, thrilled by his initiative.
He drowned in it gladly, overwhelmed by generosity.
Kisses turned to something more, and Bucky found that in this too, Steve was like sinking into a memory and Toni bordered on being too much.  
He fell asleep between them, too full of soft, kind, good things to protect them all. When it was small, just two kisses, Bucky could. Now the hurt found them. The pain found its way in through the soft openings their kindness built.
He woke in agony, staring at Toni’s closed eyes, staring at Steve’s arm wrapped over them both. There were too many kind things, and he hadn’t noticed the memory climbing out of the dark until it was sitting fully in the light for him to see.
For him to remember.
***
Bucky found what he needed.
News reports. A car accident.
Confirmation of the memory.
Mission report. Dec 16, 1991.
Source eliminated.
Now he knew.
It should have hurt less.
***
They gave him space.
They said they understood.
They smiled, and kissed his cheek and told him their door, their bed, their hearts were always open.
Stevie had always liked the romances in the pictures.
Bucky let them see what they expected, let them think he was getting used to the idea. That he was accepting that it wasn’t like with Peggy after all. It wasn’t a night. It wasn’t for fun. It was an offer. A real one.
He let them think that. Made all the right sounds when they saw him.
One by one, he picked up each kind thing they’d given him, and let himself enjoy them. Remember them. Appreciate them for the gifts they were.
Eventually a mission would come that would make it easy. That was the best way.
Bucky spent enough years with pieces of himself torn away to know it was best to do it fast. The times he tried to let it happen slow, let it be a quiet thing that drifted off like melting ice, those were the ones that ached the longest. Those were the ones that bled, sluggish and unbearable for months. Fast was best. One tear. One moment. One bullet. One choice.
That was the best way.
Clean was the best way.
***
Peggy used to tell him, every time he left their bed, that he ought to be grateful for what he got. It wasn’t cruel like it could have been. It was the wisdom of a woman in a warzone, reminding him that it could all be gone one day, so one soft moment to cling to was better than none.
Bucky couldn’t remember being the man that had winked with a different joke every time she said it. He remembered hearing her though.
He thought about that while he pet at the collection of gentle things he had gathered.
She was wrong.
If he’d never had them, he wouldn’t have to rip them away.
That would be better.
***
Eventually there was a mission that would work.
They didn’t always take him, and the last mission wouldn’t have been possible. It was too organized. Controlled. They never once lost sight of each other.
This time.
The team was scattered underground, with comm links that popped and crackled. The Hydra cell was strong enough to need his presence, but not so strong the team couldn’t survive without him. They were in Eastern Europe. They area had almost no monitoring or security cameras. The government was corrupt.
There was an easy way. Easier. Even faster.
He didn’t deserve that.
Like he didn’t deserve them.
This was best.
His zone was clear, but he didn’t call it in.
Toni’s gps tracker in his arm was easy to find and drop to the tile. The one in his armor had to be crushed since it was too hard to remove. The gun he suspected had another in it was bent in his metal hand and left in the corner.
On the comms, he listened as long as possible while he made his way through the halls. Distorted by the interference, he heard the check in. Heard the others confirm locations and status. Said nothing. Heard his call sign repeated. Heard his name. Said nothing. Plucked the bud from his ear before a question became a concern. Before he had to hear their fear turning into pain they’d later regret.
Shattered the device.
Vanished.
One rip. All at once. No slow retreat.
They would look, but it wouldn’t last.
They’d find the reason when they got back to the tower.
They’d know.
They’d be glad he’d done it for them.
***
When Peggy talked him into following her to a cabin the French countryside, when he let her push him towards the bed for an evening without war and death over their shoulder, he’d known that it wasn’t his to keep. She and Steve were borrowing him, but it wasn’t his. When the war was done, when they washed the blood away, they’d find clean skin and souls beneath. They’d find a happy ending.
Bucky knew from the start he wasn’t a part of that.
He accepted it.
Tore that hope away before it could bloom.
Knew that it would hurt less that way when he was alone again.
***
Long practice made him efficient once he began.
He ran, putting miles between himself and the base. Between himself and the Avengers.
As he did, one by one, he found the soft things he had been given. Memories of lips against his. Compliments. Toni’s fearless teasing. Steve’s strength offered as a promise that Bucky could be vulnerable.
They were precious.
That was why he’d kept them so long.
Faster was better.
He could only be hurt where he kept soft things.
He crushed them. Tore them out and broke them.
Ripped away every one of them.
There weren’t that many. Not really.
It hadn’t been a year, yet.
There was only so much humanity he had foolishly tried to claim.
He was efficient.
He almost hesitated over the last. The first two gifts. Two kisses.
He wanted to keep them, but he’d never stop hurting if he did.
Then they were gone.
Nothing but blood left at first. Ice came after. Ice would make it better, freeze away the echoes of pain until he could do what was needed. Until he could forget that he’d known kindness. Forget he ever thought he’d deserve it. It always came, that oldest companion, wrapping around his soul until he was too numb for anything to touch him. It always hurt until the ice came.
He waited, ripping away another piece of himself each time he hoped he heard them searching.
It would stop growing back once the ice came.
It would stop hurting once the ice came back.
Once he was numb, then he could decide what he had to do next.
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kaunis-sielu · 6 years
Text
The Mailbox
You were used to the motorcycles that rolled past your little house. It was the price you paid for living down the street from the second-in-command of the Howlies. But it kept you safe, safer than one might think and from what you’d seen of the man he’d been pretty nice to look at too.
It had been late fall when you’d bought the house and now that it was solidly spring you were finally able to get outside and plant some flowers. You’ve got a bandanna tied around your head, the ends on the top of your head and your hair in a messy ponytail. It’s nice enough for some lulu Capri pants and a T-shirt. You’re going to be gardening after all, you need to be able to move, you lug the bag of soil out of the garage and then bring out the flowers you bought last weekend. Mostly colorful daisies, a few marigolds and some white jasmine. You’d drawn out how you wanted them in the box so now it was just weeding, digging and planting.
The weeding takes around an hour. It’s annoying but also strangely satisfying to see the five gallon bucket full of weeds. You head inside for some lemonade and when you head back out you plop down on the grass. Face tilted up toward the sun as you lean back on your hands, your knees are bent with your feet planted on the ground, your phone playing the latest And That’s Why We Drink podcast episode. You hear a motorcycle roaring up the street toward you, it slows slightly as it takes the curve before your house, they never go too fast which is nice. You’d hate for someone to get hurt. The motorcycle passes by your house then the driver shouts, “Fuck!” His yell is followed by a crash and your eyes fly open.
Looking toward the street you’re astonished to see a bike now in your front yard. One rider still straddling the monster trying to get your mailbox out from underneath it.
“Holy shit are you okay?” You cry jumping up and hurrying toward him. He revs the engine causing you to squeak in surprise as he tries again to get the mailbox out from under the bike. “Hey!” You yell over the noise of the engine finally getting his attention.
Holy shit. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen. You knew he was good looking from the times he’s cruised by but you weren’t prepared for this.
“Are you okay?” You repeat and he nods but you can see the blood sliding down his face.
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about your mailbox and my bike.”
“You’re bleeding.” You point out and he touches the spot on his head. “Stay here I’ll go get my first aid kit.”
“I’m fine Darlin. Thanks though.”
“You’re bleeding. I know you’ve probably got like a reputation to uphold or something but you kinda owe me. You’ve taken out my mailbox and put a really nice rut into my front yard.” You point out and he looks a bit embarrassed. “Stay here. Or I will come down to your place and administer first aid there.”
“Yes ma’am.” He says with a small chuckle. You head inside not sure if you’re going to have to follow through on your threat or not.
Once you get back outside you’re pleased to see he’s still in your yard. He’s managed to get the mailbox and it’s post out from under his bike. His bike is now parked in front of your house and he’s frowning at the mark he’s made through your yard.
“Alright, let me see that cut.” You tell him and he turns to face you. Slipping on the gloves you pull out some gauze and an alcohol wipe. “Sorry if this stings-“ you trail off hoping you’ll get his name.
“Bucky.” He smiles as you tend to the cut on his forehead. You introduce yourself and he repeats your name softly. “How long have you lived here?” He asks as you press the gauze to the cut.
“Six months or so. I’m a teacher at Birchwood Elementary.” He’s not going to need stitches but head wounds bleed forever. “What happened?”
“What?”
“When you hit my mailbox.”
“Oh, cat ran across the road.” He seems distracted, and you risk a glance into those bright blue eyes. His pupils don’t seem to be dilated.
“Orange tabby?” You ask focusing back on the cut on his head.
“Yea. Yours?”
“No, I’m more of a dog person. It’s Mr. Nelson’s, blue house three down. You didn’t hit it did you?”
“No Darlin’ just your mailbox.”
“I’m fine with sacrificing my mailbox for Mr. Nelson’s cat.” You give him a smile, “Can you tell me what day it is?” He can. He also knows how old he is, his address and what month it is so you’re satisfied that he doesn’t have a concussion.
“If you wanted to get to know me Doll all you had to do was ask.” He flirts and you laugh.
You remove the gauze after a few more minutes, he’s not bleeding anymore.
“You’re good to go Bucky. Thanks for humoring me.”
“You were a great nurse, next time I cut myself I’m coming over.”
“You’re welcome to stop by anytime.” You offer, you like him. He’s sweet, charming and funny, and you could use more friends outside of school.
“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be back tomorrow to fix that mailbox.”
“Don’t worry about it. I wanted a new one anyway, it’s already in the garage so really you’ve saved me work.” He doesn’t look like he believes you but when you assure him again he nods.
“Thanks again Darlin.”
You nod and after throwing away the supplies you’d used get back to gardening.
Two days later you’re headed down the road toward your house when you notice a big black motorcycle sitting on the street in front of it. Bucky is just finishing setting up the mailbox, the post is in the ground, and the box is no longer a plain black box. Instead someone has painted it to match the flowers in the flower bed. You pull into the garage and see that the mailbox you’d purchased is gone. You know you shut your garage door.
“Bucky,” You call making your way down the driveway. He grins up at you, “You really didn’t need to do this.”
“I wanted to.”
“Did you paint it too?”
“Steve did. He’s always been artsy and I figured this would be a bit nicer than that plain box.”
“It’s beautiful. Tell him thank you.” He throws the last of the dirt back into the hole and stomps it down.
“Done.” He goes to leave when you place a hand on his arm.
“How did you get that out of my garage?”
“Darlin, a little garage door isn’t much of a challenge. You should order a security system if you’re livin in there alone. The Howlies won’t always be enough to protect you.”
“I always lock the doors.”
“I could get past those too. I never would unless it was an emergency but that doesn’t mean Hydra won’t.” Your blood runs cold at the thought and a chill runs down your spine. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t mean to scare ya doll.”
“No, I need to be reminded. It’s just, safe, here not like the city so I forget that it’s still not safe.”
“I could-“ he stops but when you look up at him you’re surprised by the intensity of his gaze, “I could come check on you. Every now and then.”
“I’d like that.”
This starts a pattern, for the first month or so he stops by twice a week. Sometimes staying for dinner, other times having to deal with ‘business’ and just making sure you’re okay before he does so. Then it becomes three or four nights a week, and before you know it he’s at your place most nights.
One night he comes bursting into your place, you’d given him a key a couple months back so he’d stop picking the locks. “Pack a bag. You’re coming to my place tonight.”
“What?” You ask looking up from the homework you’re grading.
“Get some shit together. Now. Right now.” You’ve never seen Bucky like this and it’s honestly kinda terrifying.
“Bucky what’s going on?”
“You’ve been threatened and I need to get you safe.”
“So the belly of the beast is safer than a neutral location?”
“My home is protected by a gang of Howlies. Yours isn’t, come on Doll please pack a bag before I drag you outta here.” You do as he asks, grabbing a change of clothes, pajamas, tooth brush, toothpaste, and the bag you take to school.
“I’m ready.” You tell him and he wraps a hand around one of yours before hurrying you out of the house. You’re surprised to see there are four men waiting in your driveway.
“I’m Steve, I’ll take your bags.” The leader of the Howlies doesn’t look like a rough and tumble biker, but then again neither does Bucky most days.
“Thanks.” You hand over the bags and then Bucky swings a leg over his bike before passing you a helmet.
“Helmet on.”
“It’s like a block.”
“Helmet. On.” He growls and you do as he asks with a huff. One of the men chuckles. “Don’t encourage her Wilson.” Bucky snaps as you buckle the helmet. “Swing on Darlin.” You do and he revs the engine before rolling out of the driveway. If he’d been more relaxed you’d actually have loved to go for a ride. But not tonight. He’s way too tense and he and the rest of the men roar down the street. They pull the driveway and the other four men linger as Bucky continues up it toward the garage.
“Barton, Lang, first watch.” Steve orders and two of the men pull away as their leader rolls into the garage next to Bucky. The one Bucky’s called Wilson joins you. “I’ll take her stuff to your room Buck.” Steve says as you swing off of the bike, Wilson takes the helmet from your hands then whispers,
“Ask him why he really hit your mailbox.” Then winks and is gone. You’re standing there, completely confused, when Bucky speaks.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to find out you were connected to me. Somehow they did.”
“It’s fine Bucky. I mean is this how I expected my night to go? Hell no, but I wouldn’t give up my connection to you, I love spending time with you.”
“You do?”
“Yea. I’m so glad you almost killed Mr. Nelson’s cat and killed my mailbox instead.” You tell him. He won’t look at you, “Oh my god you did kill the cat, didn’t you?”
“No darlin.”
“Then what is it? Something’s bothering you.” You take his face into your hands forcing him to look at you. “Bucky please.”
“I didn’t almost hit a cat. I’d never seen you before, not really and, God this is so embarrassing.” He grumbles, “I got so distracted by you and how gorgeous I think you are that I drove right into your mailbox.” You can’t help it, you laugh. Bucky tries to pull away from you but you wrap your arms around his neck and press your mouth to his.
It takes him a second to respond but when he does it’s with his whole body. His arms wrap around your waist and he drags you into his lap, so you’re sideways on his bike. He growls lowly as his lips coax yours apart, he swallows the sigh that passes your lips. You pull away first, resting your forehead against his you laugh softly.
“So about being connected to me and how you don’t care.”
“I really, really don’t care Barnes.” You assure him before kissing him again.
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kaunis-sielu · 6 years
Text
Biker Boss: 3
“It’s not possible.” Natasha argues, “Stark will never forgive Barnes for killing his parents. Specifically his mom.”
“But if we can prove that Hydra tricked him-“ you muse. According to Natasha Hydra had tricked Bucky into thinking that Tony Stark’s parents were some Irons on their way to kill him, his sister and Steve Rogers. This turned out, horrifically, to not be true but instead caused a huge rift and a massive fight between the Irons, Dora Milaje and Howlies. All started by Hydra to make it easier for them to take over more territory. Your father had bartered an uneasy truce between the three gangs but every now and then there was a scuffle.
“How do you plan on proving that?” Natasha asks, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed across her chest.
“I don’t know, there’s got to be a way. I’m going to have to look through my dad’s papers and see what I can find.”
“That’s a good idea.” T’Challa says, “If the threat of Thanos is as dangerous and serious as Gamora says it’s going to be we need to be united.”
“I trust her judgement. I’ve also done some research on Thanos and Hydra and if you think you can be ruthless he’s worse. He’s been in power for so long because he demands absolute loyalty. Gamora and Nebula told me that he used to make them fight one another, the loser would be beaten and starved for up to a week. These are his own children, when they were children.”
“We need to figure something out, and fast because the Howlies and the Irons are going to be making their way here to make their condolences. You need to be prepared.” Natasha continues, T’Challa has been less vocal but you can see the concern on his face. Quill comes bursting into the room, causing all three of you to reach for your weapons.
“Sorry boss. Someone just rolled up, black bands on their arms. Rocket and Groot are going out to meet them now.”
“Any idea who they are?” You ask standing and heading for the door.
“I think it’s the Howlies.” Natasha stands and joins you at the bulletproof glass window.
“That’s Rogers and Barnes.” She confirms. “I’ll go greet them.”
“Thank you. Nebula go with her.” You want to have one of your people out there.
“I need to go. I’ll make contact with Stark and Rhodes tomorrow.” T’Challa tells you gripping your hand with both of his. “When my father died yours gave me some advice I’d like to pass along to you if he hadn’t. Being a leader means that you are always prepared for war while working for peace.”
“Thank you T’Challa. I’m glad that you and the Dora Milaje are willing to sign another peace treaty with with us. My fathers legacy is a relatively peaceful one and that’s something I plan to continue.”
“I wish you luck. I’ll be in touch.” You hear him greet Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes as he leaves. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, bikers weren’t always the easiest to deal with and your nerves are already frayed. You’re pouring two new glasses of whiskey when they come in.
“Hope he’s not a hard ass.” One of them says lowly, “We could up some of our distribution numbers if he’s like his father.” You’re getting the impression that they don’t know you’re the new boss.
“Drinks?” You ask as you turn, a glass in each hand. The two men in front of you are gorgeous. Straight up the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in person. The one on the left has shoulder length brown hair, bright blue eyes, a neatly trimmed beard and several weapons. His companion has lighter and shorter brown hair, green flecked blue eyes and his own neatly trimmed beard. He only carries one visible weapon, a knife at his hip.
“Thank you ma’am.” The second man says taking his drink from you, his friend nods in agreement. “When’s your boss gonna be joining us?”
“My boss is dead, died about a week ago.”
“You’re the new boss?” The long haired man asks with a smirk, “A little thing like you?” Before either man can move you’ve got a knife at his throat and a gun pointed at the head of his companion.
“Shakespeare once said, ‘She may be but little but she is fierce.’ My Dad always said that quote fit me like it was written for me.”
“Our apologies.” The one whose at the business end of your gun says. “Buck didn’t mean to offend you, we just weren’t prepared for you to be the new boss.” So apparently he’s Steve Rogers, and the one with the long hair is Bucky. You lower both of your weapons and tuck them away.
“It’s fine. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.” You sit down again and motion for the two men to do the same. “I’d like to write a new treaty with you. My dad always spoke highly of your family and your gang. We’ve always had a good relationship with the Howlies, I’d like to continue to keep that relationship.”
“We would too.” Steve agrees, “As Bucky said we’d like to work with you to expand our product, as well as our protection.”
“Send a proposal.”
“Of course.” Steve nods, “We’re sorry to hear about your father.”
“Thank you.”
“Why haven’t I ever met you?” He asks and Bucky’s brows slowly raise.
“I think my father had hoped I’d be married before he died. Not that he was opposed to a woman taking over the family business but he’d liked to have had a son-in-law to do the actual dirty work.” He gives you a little smile and you know in that instant he’s gonna be trouble.
“Boss.” Nebula beckons you from the door.
“Excuse me.” You stand and, knowing their eyes are on you, sway your hips more than necessary as you make your way to the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Thanos. He knows about your father and he’s coming.”
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