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ghosthunterbuck · 3 years

Text

like it means something

buddie (2.8k) (read it on ao3)

Evan. His own name won’t stop rattling around in his head. Evan.

He brings Eddie home from the hospital and everything’s - not okay, Eddie still got hurt and Buck still had to watch it and Bobby’s still hurt too, but - they’re getting there. No one died, and that’s a hell of a lot better than it could’ve been. No one died.

Evan.

Eddie kisses Chris’s forehead and Buck grins wide, because yeah, of course he would take care of him if the worst happened, but this is what Christopher deserves. His family, alive and whole and well.

Taylor’s there. Of course she is, Buck’s mind supplies, you asked her to be. She’s your friend. More than a friend? Buck doesn’t know. There’s a lot to unpack there, and with everything else that’s happened, they haven’t had the time. It’s a conversation for another day.

Abuela, Pepa and Carla each take their turn fussing over Eddie and then, to Buck’s surprise, him too. He doesn’t understand why. Eddie got shot, not him. Eddie’s the one who hasn’t been home in a week, not him. Eddie -

Evan.

Buck’s at a loss. It’s a party of sorts, but Eddie’s exhausted and so is he. Buck feels completely wrung out, and he can see the tension in Eddie’s expression that says he does too. He wants to tell everyone else to leave, but it isn’t his place. Still, though, Taylor seems to get the hint first. She pulls him aside with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“I’m going to head out. Is there anything you need?” she asks.

Buck shakes his head mutely.

“Just... get some rest, okay? I know you want to take care of him, but you’re not the only one who can.” She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then heads over to where Eddie and Ana are seated at the dining room table to make her excuses.

Taylor is half right and half wrong. There are other people that can take care of Eddie, but Buck won’t be able to rest unless he’s nearby.

Evan.

Abuela and Pepa leave next, citing the sinking sun and the growing weariness in Eddie’s movements. They each kiss him on the cheek and go with the promise to return in the morning. Abuela’s left behind enough food to feed an army for a week, stacked in the fridge in carefully labeled Tupperware.

Then Carla goes and it’s just Eddie, Ana, Buck and Chris.

Evan.

Buck should probably go, he knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to. He knows Eddie’s okay, has the living proof sitting right in front of him, but the second he looks away all the tension of the week returns, the fear and anxiety mixing sickeningly in his stomach.

Christopher has fallen asleep in Eddie’s lap, head tucked into his good shoulder. Eddie himself is fighting yawns. It’s been a long day.

Finally, it’s Ana who breaks the silence, standing and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Get some rest,” she says. “And text me if you need anything.”

It’s virtually the same thing Taylor said to him, and it strikes Buck as odd. They’ve been together, what, six months now? She should be saying more. Maybe she’s not because he’s here. Buck still can’t bring himself to leave.

Evan.

Neither of them has moved in the minutes since Ana left, but Eddie’s eyes are starting to drift and Buck knows he needs to sleep.

“Let me take Chris,” he says softly.

The grateful nod Eddie gives him is a testament to just how tired he really is.

Buck picks him up carefully and carries him to bed. He tucks him in and presses a kiss into his forehead. Once upon a time, he might’ve wondered if that was his place. Not now, though, not after everything Eddie said. He loves this kid like his own; he’s not going to pretend it’s anything less.

Evan.

He flicks the light out and makes sure Chris’s night light is on before gently shutting the door. Wordlessly, he returns to Eddie’s side.

There’s a grimace of pain on Eddie’s face that hadn’t been there before, and a quick glance at the clock tells Buck that he’s way past due for another round of medication. He grabs the pills and a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“The doctor said I can give you ibuprofen, too, if this isn’t enough.”

Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, this is okay.” He swallows the pills Buck offers him dry, then washes them down with a swig of water.

“You need to sleep,” Buck says. “I should-“

“Stay, please?” Eddie interrupts him.

And how could Buck say no to that?

Evan.

Buck’s barely asleep when he hears Eddie cry out. He’s on his feet in a second and by Eddie’s side in less.

Eddie’s asleep still, but his face is scrunched and he’s curled in on himself like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Buck places a hand on his leg and shakes him gently.

Eddie shoots up, hissing in pain and clutching his shoulder. His eyes dart wildly around the room, unseeing.

“Hey, hey, just a dream, you’re okay,” Buck says.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with fear as they meet Buck’s. He sucks in a ragged, shuddering breath, then sags.

“I- you. You were- fuck,” Eddie stutters, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Buck repeats. He pulls Eddie to his chest. “You’re okay.”

Buck rocks them back and forth gently as his shirt slowly grows wet with Eddie’s tears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie gasps against him. Buck just holds him tighter.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Eddie pulls back, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks after a moment.

Eddie shakes his head but begins to speak anyway. “It was- I saw you, covered in blood and I couldn’t... couldn’t move, or, or help you. And- and then you were coughing up blood, just like at the party, and I tried, Buck I tried but it was like I was stuck in quicksand and I couldn’t-“ Eddie’s breathing has gone ragged again, so Buck grabs his hand.

“Me?” he can’t help but ask.

“Evan,” Eddie says, so tenderly it hurts.

Evan.

They fall asleep curled together, Eddie’s hand resting over Buck’s heart. It’s the first decent sleep Buck’s had since the shooting.

They don’t talk about it the next day, mostly because Buck doesn’t know what to say. He suspects Eddie doesn’t either.

Instead, much to Christopher’s delight, Buck makes pancakes. The three of them eat together on the couch, watching some cartoon that Chris seems interested in and Buck’s never seen before. It’s so painfully normal. Buck was terrified he’d never get to have this again, and now that he does he can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe is going to drop.

Evan.

That night, Eddie wordlessly pulls Buck into his bedroom. They lay facing each other in the dark. Buck wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

There’s not much light in the room, just the ambient glow of the city filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. It’s enough to see Eddie’s face by, but it doesn’t help Buck read his inscrutable expression. He eventually gives up trying and closes his eyes.

He’s stiff, and sleep evades him. If Eddie’s shifting is any indication, he’s still awake too. Finally, Eddie heaves a sigh and, to Buck’s surprise, wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist and pulls. Buck opens his eyes and sees the silent question in Eddie’s.

Is this okay?

Buck presses himself into Eddie’s space without hesitation.

Evan.

Eddie has a doctor’s appointment the next day, and Buck’s agreed to meet Taylor for coffee after dropping him off. Carla’s with Chris for the day, to help him with school, leaving Buck with a free hour on his hands for the first time in over a week.

His stomach has been in knots all morning. He’s not sure if it’s the prospect of letting Eddie out of his sight for the first time since he’s been home, or the conversation he knows he’s about to have with Taylor.

Because he’s thought about it, and the idea of being with Taylor… he’s kidding himself. Before, maybe. But now, after, with the mess of feelings he has twisting in his chest - he’s not in a place to start something new. He’s not even sure he wants it - her - anymore. Taylor’s great, but she could never fill the hole that was punched in his chest by the same bullet that tore through Eddie’s shoulder.

He’s starting to wonder if he’ll spend the rest of his life dividing things into before and after.

Taylor’s already seated when he arrives, fingers wrapped around a cardboard coffee cup that’s still steaming. Buck almost expected to change his mind when he saw her, to suddenly remember why he was interested in the first place, but mostly he’s just anxious to get back to Eddie. He doesn’t even really feel the old curl of attraction he’s used to. He sits in front of her, suppressing a sigh.

Taylor looks up at him, wearing an expression he can’t quite decipher. “Buck,” she says.

Evan.

“Hey, Taylor.”

“You don’t want coffee?” She asks, inclining her cup towards him.

Buck shakes his head. “Had some this morning,” he shrugs. “Don’t want to get jittery.”

Taylor frowns slightly, but doesn’t say anything.

They sit in awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before Buck finally breaks it.

“Look, Taylor,” he sighs. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I just… whatever this thing is between us, I’m not sure I have the space to figure it out. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I just can’t be right now.”

Taylor blows out a breath. “Oh thank god,” she says.

And that’s… unexpected. Buck raises a brow.

“You’re my friend, and I care so much about you, but I- I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I told myself it was something else.” Taylor doesn’t look him in the eye. “All this earnestness is making me nauseous,” she jokes weakly.

Buck huffs out a short laugh. The tightly wound anxiety in his gut loosens, just a bit. “Friends, then?”

Taylor finally looks at him and smiles. “Friends,” she agrees.

“How was coffee?” Eddie asks. He’s looked vaguely constipated since Buck picked him up, but insists that his appointment went fine.

“Good,” Buck replies honestly. “We’re on the same page.” He’s driving, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie’s face do something complicated.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good.” There’s a beat of silence. “So you’re… together, then?”

Buck glances at Eddie, whose eyes are fixed on the road ahead of them. His expression is carefully neutral, but tight around the edges. Buck huffs a soft breath. “Nah,” he says. “End of the day it wasn’t what either of us wanted.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Eddie’s posture. “Oh. I, uh- are you okay with that?”

Buck chuckles lightly at that. “Yeah, Eds. Pretty sure I’ve got everything I need right now.”

Evan.

Sleeping in the same bed at night becomes something of a habit, just like not talking about it does. It’s not that Buck doesn’t want to. He’s just… not sure how. What do you say when you’ve got so many feelings that you can’t even begin to decipher them, and the only thing you know for sure is that the thought of letting your best friend out of sight for more than a few minutes sends you careening towards a panic attack? There’s not exactly a greeting card for that.

This song and dance, though, it’s familiar. Comforting, in its own way. They’ve always flirted with the line between friendship and more, daring to put a toe over it, but never to take an actual step. Buck can’t help but wonder if this is a step, and they’re both just too chickenshit to admit it.

Evan.

“Where’s Ana?” Buck asks one morning, apropos of nothing. “I would’ve expected to see her around more often.”

Eddie stiffens. “We, uh, we broke up.”

Buck whirls around, nearly flinging egg against the backsplash. “When?”

“After the party.” Eddie shrugs uncomfortably.

Buck’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve been with you 24/7 since then,” he says. The question is obvious.

Eddie rubs a hand through his hair and frowns sheepishly. “I… texted her?”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You ended a 6-month relationship, a week after you got shot, over text?”

“In my defense, I was on a lot of painkillers. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Buck can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back. After a moment, Eddie joins in.

“That,” Buck says between giggles, “was not cool, man!”

“Nope,” Eddie agrees.

It’s the best either of them has felt in weeks.

The night after Buck’s first shift back at the station, Eddie has the worst nightmare he’s had since that first night. It takes Buck three tries to wake him, and the glassy look in his eyes remains far longer than he’d like.

“Please be careful,” Eddie says finally. “You have to- I can’t-“

“I promise,” Buck says, holding him tight to his chest.

Evan.

It’s Buck’s own nightmare that brings things to a head.

He’s been sleeping surprisingly peacefully since Eddie’s return home, but when the nightmares do return, they’re the worst he’s had.

He dreams he’s stuck beneath the firetruck, white-hot pain radiating up his leg, watching helplessly as Eddie bleeds out in front of him. Eddie tries to drag himself to Buck, but each pull makes the wound gush even more blood. Buck tries to yell for him to stop, but he can’t make his jaw work.

He finally wrenches it open, only to find himself sitting bolt upright in bed. His throat feels raw, like he’s been screaming, and Eddie’s hand is clutching his forearm. He knows where he is, but the panic from his dream isn’t receding. It grows louder and louder, until finally, Eddie’s voice cuts through.

“Evan!” He says sharply. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re in my room, with me. We’re both okay.”

Buck sags and falls back against the pillow, willing his breathing to slow. “You keep saying that,” he whispers in the dark.

“What?”

“My name. Like it means something.”

“It does,” Eddie says. “Every single piece of you matters.”

And Buck… Buck almost believes him.

Evan.

The elephant in the room grows larger every day, but still, they don’t talk about it. For all intents and purposes, Buck lives at Eddie’s. It’s been months. Eddie doesn’t physically need his help anymore, but neither is willing to let the other go. With Eddie’s return date drawing nearer, though, it’s getting harder to ignore.

Buck doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop since practically the first night, and he can’t take it anymore. He decides to soften the blow with pancakes.

“I should probably go back to my apartment,” he says, as casually as he can manage, as if the words don’t feel like ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest. Buck tries not to examine that feeling too closely.

“You need something?” Eddie asks, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that Buck might not come back.

“No, I-“

“Oh,” Eddie says. His expression goes carefully blank.

“I just-“ Buck tries to explain.

Eddie holds up a hand forestalling him. “I get it,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Buck swallows, ignoring the voice in his head that says definitively that it’s not.

Evan.

Buck’s out the door, duffle in hand, when Eddie stops him.

“Buck, wait,” he says, “Evan!”

Buck drops his bag in surprise and turns, only to find Eddie much closer than he expected.

“Don’t go,” Eddie says in a rush. “Stay, please. I need you here. With me.”

Buck gapes at him, as slowly the knot of emotions in his chest begins to unravel. The string that encircles the edges, that one he knows well: fear. The one beneath it: anger, at the sniper and the universe for hurting Eddie all over again. Hope and devastation intermingle, while grief lay coiled off to the side.

And the string that runs through the middle, holding it all together… that’s love.

Oh.

Buck gets it now.

He takes a step forward, closing the minuscule gap between him and Eddie. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“Then don’t.”

Buck kisses him, soft and sweet. A promise, one which Eddie returns in kind.

There’re still a million things to talk about, but for once in his life, Evan Buckley is pretty sure he has all the words he needs.

#911 #9-1-1 #buddie #911 fox #abbie writes #fic #mine

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konigsfaerie · 3 years

Text

Tell Me What You Want

Summary: Tony Stark can't deny himself of you anymore.

CW: Unprotected sex, rough sex, age gap.

Word count: 2,026

For anyone else, the sound of Tony constantly drilling, talking to himself and his beloved AI, and making other noises would bother them when doing their readings, but not you. Ever since he took you in after HYDRA’s experiments, you clung to him. Every time you thought never leaving his side was bothering him, he’d do something small to make sure your mind was at ease. He wasn’t one for big gestures, and that was alright with you.

Tony’s workshop was probably your favorite place on Earth. He talked to himself more than anyone else, and you often found yourself falling asleep on the desk you read at to his voice because it calmed you so much. There was a reason you fell asleep with a smile on your face, wishing he was whispering in your ear instead of talking to Friday about his latest design or upgrade to his suit.

But today Doctor Strange had assigned you some readings which you needed to complete by the end of the week, which meant you couldn’t take a nap while listening to Tony. Strange in combination with Tony and Wanda had been training you, showing you how to use your new abilities. You imagined physical training, falling on your ass, occasionally even kicking Cap’s ass, but it was mostly learning how to control yourself and your emotions.

You had been training for a year, had fought countless battles, had formally joined The Avengers, and still lost control sometimes. It was mainly when you thought about your family, or had flashbacks of the experiments they would do on you, but mostly it was when Tony looked at you. You had just hoped he didn’t realize the effect he was having on you. To everyone else, he was a father figure to you, and he was surely a mentor, but… You felt something else for him, too. You were fully aware of the age difference you two had, and the guilt that plagued your mind for what you felt for him never went away, not for a moment.

Lost in your readings, you jumped up as Tony slid a plate towards you and closed your book, moving it over and placing his own plate in front of him. He slid up a chair and took a bite of the sandwich. “You haven’t eaten all day,” he remarked.

“Oh… Yeah.” You moved in your chair, taking a bite as you only now realized how hungry you were, your stomach growling so loud that the entirety of the tower could probably hear. “Mmm, thanks!” You popped a chip into your mouth and gave a smile to him, even though from the look on his face, you knew you were in trouble.

His faculties weren’t as strong as he thought though, because he slowly returned the smile and shook his head.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Almost eight,” he returned, collecting both plates after you were finished and put them to the side. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Just wondering.” Jesus, you had been in his workshop since you got up this morning. “Should I…” Your eyes fluttered up to his, worried you were overstepping or… Or just being too clingy again.

“You know-” he interrupted before you could get the thought out. “I’m working on a new suit for you so the water flows more easily between your fingers.” He went on a long tangent of mechanics he knew you couldn’t understand, pacing back and forth, so you only rested your head on your hand and listened to his voice, staring up at him.

“How does that sound?”

You gave a laugh. “I didn’t understand anything you just said.”

He only looked at you. “I like when you’re here. I like working for hours on end and seeing you every time I look over.”

Your eyes trailed from his facial hair to his eyes, where your heart was currently thudding inside of your chest. He wasn’t usually this blunt. It was hard to get affection from him, but when you did, it meant something special and caused your heart to do… this.

“I-I like being here,” you started, afraid of saying the wrong thing. You still weren’t sure why he took you in like this. He could’ve set you up in an apartment and checked in on you every few months, but instead he insisted you stay at the tower and you began being connected at the hip. Where he went, you went. “And I like hearing your voice when I study or train. I don’t know if I could focus without it.”

His face went from a softened glance to something relatable to shock. “My voice… makes you focus?”

Was that… the wrong thing to say? Well, no going back now.

Heat stained your face, a deep blush painting your cheekbones and nose. “It calms me, makes me feel safe,” you admitted.

His eyes raked down from your face all the way to your thighs. You noticed as he tore his gaze away in shame, instead deciding to flick his eyes to the suit he was working on. Before he could speak, before he could say something that would put you both back at normal, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself into him.

Rejection. That was your fear. But you couldn’t imagine Tony pulling away from you at a time like this, or really ever. Anything you needed, he gave you. And you needed…

His arms wrapped around your back, his smell of amber and tobacco enveloping you. You gave a contented sigh.

Just as you were about to pull away, he placed a finger under your chin and looked into your eyes. “Look at me.”

At the sight of him looking at you, no- through you, your face went red. You struggled to keep eye contact but when you tried to look at the floor, he only adjusted your chin. “T-Tony…” You were sure everything was in that look. Everything you were far too ashamed to say to him.

I adore you.

I want to be yours.

I’ve fallen in love with you.

“Y/n…” he returned, his eyes flicking to meet your lips.

“Please,” you breathed. Suddenly, there were no other English words in your vocabulary. In times like these when all of your unsaid feelings came rushing to the center of your mind, you excused yourself to your room for the night and just cried. He would never want you. He was the smartest and strongest man you knew, a billionaire with years more experience with love or anything else for that matter. And you were… you. A failed experiment.

Despite your dark thoughts, his hands clutched your face and your heart stopped, confusion racking your face. “Tony?” you asked, barely able to get the words out before his lips were on yours. At first, it was tender. His lips explored yours, his tongue teasing your own. It felt like fireworks were going off in your mind. This was.. This was everything you had ever wanted.

But then he was pushing you up against the wall, his kiss getting rougher by the second. A moan slipped out of your mouth which only made your face even more red. Tony pulled away, and you could tell it painted him to do so, but he was searching your face for any apprehension, any tell that this was only one-sided. When it didn’t come, he spun you around against the wall and pressed a hand to your waist.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

Fuck, that voice.

“I want you,” you breathed back. “I want you to take me right here, right now. I want you to make me yours.”

A large, rough hand slipped into your hair and pulled roughly, taking you back against his own body. He let go only to move his strong hands down the center of your body, moving your dress up and feeling on the front of your panties.

“Jesus, y/n. How are you so wet?”

“I told you what your voice does to me, didn’t I?” You gazed up at him, daring to place a hand behind you and see if he was hard. Even through his pants you could tell that he wanted to burst free. You bit your lip as you looked up at him. “Tell me what you want.”

A growl escaped his lips as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to his desk. He unbuttoned his pants, slipping them down and sitting down in the chair. Your face was all want, all desire, and he could tell. He had the same look on his face. You sat on his lap, kissing him lightly, teasingly, before lifting up his shirt and revealing his muscled chest. Staring was not a choice for you.

In turn, he lifted up your dress and gulped. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He grabbed your waist with one arm, pulling you up and sucking on your breasts, causing shocks to go down your body, you pussy dripping even more for him. Just for a moment, his face lifted to look at you. “You’re mine, do you hear me? All mine and no one else’s. I don’t even want to see another man so much as look at you or even glance your way.”

Your hands drifted down to his boxers as your lips found his again, your tongues teasing each other. You could feel how wet you were for him, and as you pushed his boxers away, you grinded your pantied pussy against his rock hard cock. “I need-” you struggled to get the words out, but he knew what you wanted. What you absolutely needed.

In a second, your panties were off and the head of his cock was at your entrance. “Oh Tony,” you moaned, wrapping your hands around his shoulders as his fingers curled against your waist and slowly lowered you onto him.

You were absolutely dripping for him and had been soaked since he said good morning to you hours ago, so it didn’t take long until his fat cock was completely inside of you, his long shaft already hitting all of the right spots.

He groaned, gripping your waist a little harder, moving you back and forth.

“O-Oh, Tony!” Your fingernails dug into his back, which prompted a groan from him. He was so big that you were still adjusting, but eventually you were bouncing along with him.

Pure ecstasy; that’s what this felt like. You started panting. “I don’t think I can last long,” you breathed into his ear as his hips began to thrust. He was absolutely feral, bucking along with you.

You closed your eyes, but not for long, because the sight of him watching you on the edge was too much for you.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated through groans.

“I want you filling me up!” You could barely talk. Your head was only filled with desire for him as you wrapped your legs around his back and let him take you however he saw fit. His hands were digging into your sides, bouncing you up and down on his cock. There would undoubtedly be bruises in the morning, but it only edged you on. It was only a part of him completely claiming you as his.

This was it. You couldn’t hold off anymore. “Daddy!” Your mind reeled as your orgasm enveloped you, and you pushed his chest back into his chair as you took your climax for yourself. At that moment, you could feel hot ropes of cum shooting inside of you as he gripped your thighs and moaned your name, only making more bruises. Maybe these you could actually show off.

As your orgasm ebbed, you leaned against his chest, panting and still feeling him inside of you. “That was…” Once again, you were lost for words.

He kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms around you again and slipping out of you. Before either of you could say anything more, the exhaustion overtook you and you began to sleep on his muscled chest.

#Tony stark #Tony stark x reader #marvel #avengers #marvel fanfiction #oneshot #avengers fanfiction #iron man #iron man fanfiction #my fanfic

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

A Friend of Yours - pt. 2

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: reader meets up with Bucky, Sam and Zemo to figure out this Flag Smasher drama

word count: 6386

warnings: canon lvl violence? SPOILERS FOR TFATWS, (it’s the episodes with yn in it, like rlly) language throughout the whole thing, i think that’s it.

a/n: i’m actually really proud of this guys. there is a part three that has WAY more Bucky x YN content that’ll be posted in a few days <3 i hope y’all love this!!

i just want to remind y’all that this started out as a request from @dramaticwittch it won’t let me tag you for some reasons babes :((

be sure to read A Friend of Yours - pt 1

A Friend of Yours - pt. 3 is up too!!!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

check out my other writing here!

xoxo ray <3

You had the same contacts as Sharon, so finding the Three Musketeers was no problem. It baffled you that Sharon had access to satellites. Makes you wonder what she was doing during those five years you were gone. When you got to their safehouse, you were impressed to say the least. It was nice, cute little pillars next to the dining area, some couches, just enough to make it livable. One thing that struck you as strange was that it was also empty, they weren’t there.

“Fuck it.” You dropped your bag onto the dining table and walked over to the kitchen area. You opened several cabinets, searching for alcohol that you could drown your frustrations in. You found an unopened wine bottle, releasing a little cheer, you popped the cork and brought the bottle to your nose. A sweet plum scent invaded your senses, grabbing a glass and pouring it full for yourself before re-corking the bottle. You grasped the cup walking to the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching the doorway, then the door being forced open. Muffled conversations were taking place during their entrance.

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky said as he waltzed into the room. Sam followed closely behind him, Zemo immediately going to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Karli’s the only one who’s fighting for them.” You said, startling the pair of men who were now lounging on the couches. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” You dropped next to Bucky, offering him a sip of your plum flavored wine.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky shot Sam a look, questioning his thought process. “Look, for five years these people were welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs.” Sam sighed, “Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild.” You stopped listening halfway through Sam’s speech, thinking of Sharon. You only refocused when Bucky placed his metal hand on your knee, giving you a look, asking if you were okay.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky asked after you nodded at him. His face never left yours, until Zemo approached the three of you on the couch. He was holding a tray with a clear teapot and cups. He placed it on the coffee table, stepping back and clutching a cup for himself.

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo was always one for the dramatics, so you’re sure that he had something else up his sleeve. Bucky squeezed your knee and you knew he was trying to calm himself.

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He made a noise of acknowledgement, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Bucky hauled himself off the couch to stand in front of the Baron. You gaze flicked to Sam’s, unsure of what Bucky was going to do. Bucky puffed his chest out, clenching his jaw as he gripped Zemo’s teacup and chunked it at the concrete wall behind him. Zemo flinched as Bucky began talking to him.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Sam stood quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated.

“Take it easy, Buck. Don’t engage him.” You were taking a drink of your wine, as you observed Zemo’s actions.

“Watch out, he’s going to extort you and do that idiotic head tilt thing.” Zemo’s eyes darted to your figure on the couch as he straightened his head. Sam left to make a call, you assumed Sharon and Bucky followed closely behind him. Zemo offered you cherry blossom tea to which you declined by holding up your wine glass. As Bucky left the room, the Baron released a sigh of relief causing you to laugh at his actions.

“You’re really scared of him, aren’t you?” You teased the man who was now glaring at you.

“If you have made him as angry as I have then you would be too.” You shrugged your agreement. You hadn’t made Bucky mad, and you definitely hadn’t been a part of reactivating him as the Winter Soldier to reach your goals.

“Yeah, well you’re a dumbass, so.” You got up and walked to where Bucky and Sam were gathered. Sam’s phone was still pressed to his ear, but you could tell you were catching the tail-end of his conversation. You could hear Sharon’s voice over the phone talking about the Power Broker. In all your years of living and conducting business in Madripoor, you never tangled with the Power Broker. That didn’t mean anything, it was just suspicious because of how successful your operation with Sharon was.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, dumping the rest of your wine in the sink, casting a glance at an appalled Zemo. “It was shit wine.”

“Zemo has a contact that can show us where the funeral is, and that’s all we got.” You nodded before looking at Bucky and Sam.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

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

You were walking down the cobblestone roadway with the Three Musketeers when a voice shouted at you from the stairway before you. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” A scruffy looking man approached you. Both him and his partner were clad in tactical gear, the scruffy one’s resembling a Walmart version of Steve’s Cap suit. Bucky spread his arms out.

“How’d you find us now?” The man’s partner responded to Bucky with equal annoyance.

“Come on, man. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” As he got closer you could read Hoskins on his vest.

“No more keeping us in the dark.” Scruff said before anyone else could fire back. He stopped walking in front of Zemo, effectively stopping your forward motion. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” You were walking just behind Bucky to his right and you watched him cock his head back, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

“He did that himself, technically.” Scruff’s face contorted as Bucky talked.

“This better be an unbelievable explana--” Scruff’s voice was cut off by Sam’s hand bumping into his chest.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Zemo began talking over the group around him, explaining what was going on. You remained quiet, observing the interaction between Scruff and the Three Musketeers. Clearly, the Three Musketeers did not like him and so you assumed he was the ‘new Cap,’ whatever that means. The group began walking again with Zemo leading the pack.

“Alright good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Scruff was insistent but so was Sam.

“Look, the person closest to her just died, she’s vulnerable.” The group had stopped walking again, focusing on the conversation. You could see the wheels turning in Hoskin’s head as Sam spoke. Scruff was not having any part of what Sam was suggesting.

“What? No. Wait, no! No. Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Scruff ran ahead in front of the others, stopping the forward motion, once again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people still in it.” This was news to you, deciding to stay offline in hopes of remaining under the radar. The back and forth continued until Scruff turned to Bucky.

“You gonna let him do this?” Bucky tilted his head at the man. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” You knew Bucky was referring to himself in Winter Soldier mode. Your heart hurt for him to have to go through this again with some clueless nobody.

“And last I checked, he’s a grown ass man who makes his own decisions, Scruff.” Your arms crossed over your chest. This had been the first time you spoke since Scruff and Hoskin’s had arrived.

“Who the hell is this?” Scruff pointed at you. “You break her out of prison too?” Sam interjected before you could sass back.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Scruff’s gaze hadn’t left your face. He continued staring at you as he countered Sam’s claim.

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Hoskin’s hand came up to rest on Scruff’s shoulder.

“Wait, John. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Scruff was not happy with Hoskin's agreement to the situation. Scruff said something to Zemo, who mostly ignored him, acknowledging the little girl waiting under an archway. The group began moving toward her and you focused on Bucky.

“Hey, you okay?” He just nodded at you, denying you the pleasure of a verbal response. You’ll take what you can get. Bringing up the rear of the group, you entered the factory type building last. The little girl pointed up some stairs, and Zemo translated. Sam walked up behind the girl, making him way up the stairs as Scruff handcuffed Zemo to a metal contraption.

“You got ten minutes. Then we’re doing things my way.” Scruff yelled after Sam, who darted his eyes at you and Bucky, a silent instruction to the both of you. Scruff rested his weight against a table, holding Steve’s shield in front of him. His breathing became increasingly worrisome, an ode to how stable he was in the moment.

“You aren’t looking so hot over there, Scruff.” Bucky shot you a warning look, but it didn’t deter you. “The government is really harping on you to get this shit contained, aren’t they?” Scruff pushed off the table, bringing the shield around his back. You were leaning against a pillar near Zemo and Scruff made his way over to you. His face was about six inches from yours as he spoke.

“Do you know who I am?” He was trying to intimidate you, which clearly wasn’t working.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Scruff’s eyes darted over your frame, a look of recognition washing over his features.

“I know who you are.” He glanced at the clock across the room before looking back at you. “I could arrest you right now. Enemy of the State, standing before me right here.”

“We’re not in that state, dumbass. Technically, you don’t have jurisdiction.” The corner of your mouth raised in a smirk as Bucky called your name. You pushed off the pillar behind you to stand next to Bucky, who was leaning against the railing of the stairs.

“Don’t antagonize him, Y/N.” Bucky berated you, to which you shrugged a shoulder. Scruff began pacing back and forth, frustration getting the better of him.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Hoskin’s tried to calm Scruff down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” He shot a look at Hoskins, then the clock, then Bucky, making a decision in his head. “I’m goin’ in.” Bucky rose to his full height, not allowing Scruff to get by him. “This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” You watched Bucky’s jaw clench, you could see the anger bottling up. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.” Bucky was an immovable fortress of solitude. “Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Oh shit.

You watched as Bucky’s resolve faded, allowing Scruff to step around him. Bucky was tired of being the cause of other people’s deaths. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Sam could take care of himself, he just didn’t want the burden any longer. He was finally free of being a murder machine, finally able to rinse his hands clean. Scruff knew just which buttons to push to get what he wanted.

Scruff busted into the memorial site, guns blazing. You trailed behind Bucky who was fighting against Hoskin’s to try to reach Scruff. Karli and Sam were previously engaged in peaceful conversation, until Scruff announced that Karli was under arrest. Betrayal laced her features as she looked at Sam, defending herself against Scruff advances. She threw Scruff’s weight into Sam, launching them both into the table behind. Bucky took off after her, chasing her through the halls. You crouched next to Sam, making sure he was okay.

Sam recovered quickly, racing down a different corridor leading to another stairway. You followed close behind, allowing Sam to attempt to navigate the area around you. The two of you eventually went down enough of the wrong corridors, that you met up with an equally confused Bucky. You head perked up at the sound of gunshots somewhere in the building. Not sure who the culprit was you turned to Bucky and Sam, who looked just as panicked.

The three of you retraced your steps to find Scruff standing over a knocked-out Zemo with crushed vials wetting the floor. Scruff tossed a glance back at Hoskins and then one to the three of you on the staircase landing. “What did we miss?” Sam directed his question at Scruff, who didn’t dignify him with an answer. Scruff nodded to Hoskins before walking away from the rest of you.

“Thanks for your help, asshole!” You shouted after him.

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

Hauling Zemo’s deadweight back to the safehouse was a job that you and Sam decided Bucky was fit for, being a super soldier and all. Through much complaining and whining on Bucky’s part, he did get him to the safehouse relatively injury free, dumping his body on the couch, jostling Zemo just enough to wake him up. Bucky promptly left the apartment after dropping Zemo off, going to clear his head was the explanation you got as he left.

You huffed, discontent with everything that was going on. You walked to the kitchen, wetting a rag and tossing it at Zemo. “For your head, cover your eyes, it’ll help.” You then popped a few cubes of ice in a glass and poured whiskey over it, handing it to Zemo as well, tapping your temple at him. You went back to the kitchen, jumping onto the counter, letting your legs dangle over the edge. Sam had pulled out a laptop and was typing furiously.

“Were you ever offered it?” You knew Zemo wasn’t talking to you, but to Sam, who hadn’t looked up from the laptop screen. You zoned out of their conversation, trying to decide what Sam was sending Sharon now. “Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” This made Sam pause and turn to face Zemo, who continued talking. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people.” Zemo removed the rag from his eyes, locking gazes with Sam. “Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how god’s talk?” You interjected, then you asked quietly, “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” It was a valid concern. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” Bucky waltzed into the apartment, stripping his jacket from his shoulders, giving a perfect view of his two contrasting arms.

“Something’s not right about Walker.”

“You don’t say.” Sam quipped, closing his laptop and facing Bucky.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky jabbed at Sam, sticking to his guns on this.

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam was exasperated in his delivery.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You turned to Bucky.

“Hey. Back off, Buck.” Bucky was going to say something in reply when the door burst open again. In walked Scruff and Hoskins, all gung-ho about something.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go.” He pointed a finger at a now standing Zemo. The whole room began shifting, Sam in front of Scruff, Zemo to the side out of direct view, and Bucky to your other side, glass in hand. “I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Sam stopped before Scruff, annoyed.

“Let’s be clear, shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.” You added from your spot on the countertop. Scruff pointed his finger at you.

“And I’m taking her too.” Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking Scruff’s view of you. You placed your hand on his left shoulder, letting him know you were still there.

“I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Scruff puffed out his chest, attempting to intimidate Sam.

“How do you want this conversation to go Sam, huh?” He stepped back slightly, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?” Taking on a condescending tone with Sam, making your brows raise. Suddenly a spear lodged itself in the pillar next to Scruff’s face, all eyes darted towards the woman across the room. Two more warriors walked in, holding spears by their sides and Bucky looked resigned. This was new territory for you, who the fuck are these people? One of the women stepped forward near Scruff. She spoke at Bucky in a language that sounded vaguely familiar to you.

“Release him to us now.” Scruff ignored her instruction, deciding to step towards her, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” You scoffed loudly.

“No, you’re not!” You received a look from Sam at your comment.

“Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk through this, huh?” Sam stepped forward, warning Scruff against tangling with the Dora Milaje.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Your hand balled into a fist, quickly covering your mouth.

“That’s a burn, Scruff!” You yelled like the little shit you are.

“Y/N! Cut it out.” Sam snapped. Scruff, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to place hands on the Dora he was speaking to. She quickly brought her spear up to force his hand off her shoulder, then bringing it downward into the back of his knee and finally bouncing it off of the front of his helmet. She launched her foot into his chest while he was dazed, sending him backward into the spear behind him and face planting on the ground below. Scruff recovered quickly, sliding his arm into the straps of the shield to protect himself from the spear coming at his body.

The three warriors began fighting with Scruff and Hoskins, much to yours and Bucky’s delight. Sam backed up to stand next to Bucky, who crossed his arms over his chest. Sam looked at Bucky.

“We should do something.” You had just barely heard Sam say it when you and Bucky yelled at the same time.

“Looking strong, John!” “You’re doing great, sweetie!” Bucky gave you a look at your term of endearment, not understanding that it was a patronizing use of the word. The warrior battling Scruff was about to drive her spear into him, until Bucky gripped the handle, stopping her attack.

“Ayo!” Bucky yelled at her. “Ayo! Let’s talk about this!” Ayo had effectively yanked Bucky towards her body, then throwing him backwards. Sam stopped another warriors spear before it drove into a downed Hoskins. The last warrior threw her spear at Scruff, trapping the shield against the table. She began her approach to him and Sam yelled your name to help him.

You got down with a groan, unhappy that you had to save this asshat. All movement was stopped when you heard a metallic thud against the floor. Your head snapped to a now one armed Bucky, his vibranium arm laying on the ground. You released an audible gasp as Ayo walked away from Bucky, his blue eyes wide. Everything around you faded as you watched a broken Bucky, kneel to pick up his metal appendage. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who was just as shocked as you.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam gestured to Bucky’s immobile arm.

“No.” He swung his arm around once to restart the systems. You heard Hoskins checking on Scruff’s wounded ego, but that didn’t matter to you.

“Bucky. Are you okay?” He avoided your question, grabbing his jacket and telling Sam that Zemo had gotten away. You held your arms out in front of you, what the fuck? Are you the enemy now? You followed after them, not sure where you were going. You got closer to Bucky, grabbing his left arm and yanking him back to you, making his attention be on you for a second or two. “I’m talking to you, dickwad.” His eyes hardened as you continued. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened back there, I’m assuming that has to do with you not being the Soldier anymore. I don’t really care. What I care about is if you’re okay or not.” You stopped walking, still holding his arm.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” Bucky inquired.

“I want you to fucking talk to me. I’m here for you to unload on.” His brows scrunched and you realized what you said. “Oh my god, not like that, sicko. Well, I mean--”

“Y/N.” Bucky smiled at your humor.

“There, see? How hard was it for you to smile. Just talk to me. I’m making sure you’re okay. Don’t shut down, I hate it when people do that.” Bucky went to say something else when the both of your attentions shifted to a concerned Sam.

“She said what?” A pause, “Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know.” He sighed loudly, “Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys.” He tried to calm the other person down. You began walking again, Bucky asking quietly.

“What happened?” Sam dropped the phone to his collarbone.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Bringing it back up to his ear, he continued. “Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash, alright? Let me know when you get there.” You turned your attention to your surroundings. The bland streets offered little to no security, but they did give too many vantage points to count. “She wants me to come alone.”

“I’m coming with you.” Bucky fired back, not changing his mind about this one.

“Yay, more friends. She’ll love that. Where we going now?”

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

You’ve never seen Sam as mad as he was when he walked into that building. Although you weren’t sure if it was anger or if it was betrayal that he was displaying as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. “You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Her accent shone through with every word. You could tell that she didn’t want to hurt you. Her demeanor was relaxed, her guard was up, but she was being civil, almost like a politician. You were good at analyzing the people around you, so when Karli mentioned Sam and Bucky just being tools she really meant it. She wasn’t interested in hurting people she deemed innocent.

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice snapped you back to reality. The two of you hadn’t spoken since you left Madripoor.

“Scruff’s coming, guys and you know it’s not going to be pretty when he does.” Bucky jumped over the ledge and Karli followed suit. Jumping into Bucky, slamming his body into the post. You ran alongside Bucky to the location Sam had sent to your phone. By the time that you had gotten to the building where Scruff was, you had lost Bucky. Taking an entrance that was already knocked open you heard gunshots from a few floors above you. With your gun raised, you scanned the room for any friendlies.

“Y/N, you’re about to come up on Hoskins. He’s not moving, may need an assist.” Your brows furrowed as you entered the room cautiously.

“How the hell do you know that, Shar? How did you get access to satellites?” You questioned as you approached a tied-up Hoskins. “Need some help, Battlestar?”

“I totally had that.” He said as your knife snapped the zip tie around his wrists.

“Yeah, yeah.” You held your hand out, hauling him to his feet. “It’s okay to be the damsel, ya know?” He shook his head at you, not engaging in your hilarious banter. “Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios.” You shoved your knife back into your thigh holster, leading the way to where the others were.

When you walked in, Bucky had just caught a knife that Scruff had so deflected. He twirled the object in his right hand, ready to defend against the Flag Smasher attacking him. Their fight was quick and ended with the Smasher on their back, the knife Bucky was holding embedded in the floor inches away from their face. You jumped in, helping Sam fend off another Smasher when suddenly Bucky’s fist flew by your face.

“You’re welcome.” He darted off to deal with the others. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Scruff being held by a Smasher and Karli coming with a knife in hand. You started towards her to stop her, until you saw Hoskins attack from her other side. He tackled her to the ground, Karli bounced back quicker than Hoskins, allowing her to throw a punch at Hoskins. Your jaw dropped as you watched his body fly into the concrete mainstay behind him. His whole body slackened and Karli stood in shock.

Scruff was struggling in his captors hold, thrashing about to get to Hoskins. Once he was free, he shook Hoskins and pushed his fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. “Hey, hey. Hey. Lemar!” You stood silent in between Bucky and Sam, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t until Scruff stood again that you knew what he was going to do. He had a half-second head start, but it was long enough that he was able to reach the Samsher that was holding him back before you could reach Scruff.

You had to push through the crowd to see what was happening. The Smasher had his hands protecting his face against the slam of the Captain America shield that was being hammered into him. You gasped and had to turn your face into Bucky’s shoulder. This is not happening, but it was.

And the whole world saw it too.

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

The next time you saw Scruff was in an abandoned warehouse. He was talking to himself, yelling about different things. If you weren’t sure before, you definitely were now. John Walker had taken the serum and it was enhancing all the wrong things. Scruff was kneeling, resting his hands on the bloodied shield before him. You were on Sam’s right when Scruff walked up to you.

“You guys should see a medic. You don’t look too good.” He paced in front of the three of you. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky’s voice remained calm. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Scruff sent Bucky a disgusted look.

“I’m not like you.”

“You convincing yourself or us, Scruff?” You recognize that this probably isn’t the time to pull his strings but he wasn’t thinking clearly anyway.

“Listen, it was the heat of battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Scruff never stopped pacing, his hand flexing in the shield.

“You gotta give Sam the shield, Scruff.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, getting a little close for comfort.

“Oh, so that’s what this is.” He leaned forward, “You almost got me.” His index finger jabbed into your chest then rested there as he spoke. “You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.” Came Bucky’s reply before all hell broke loose. Bucky and Sam rushed Scruff, fighting for a way to get the shield from him. Scruff sent Sam flying backwards with a swift kick to the stomach. This gave you the room you needed to launch yourself onto his shoulders, attempting to flip him using his own body weight and your momentum. Your move distracted him enough that Bucky got a few decent hits in, but it really just served to piss him off further. He whipped one arm around, gripping the waistband of your jeans and dumping your weight off his shoulders. He threw you into a wooden shipping container, knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

You watch, as you lay there gasping, Bucky get beat to his knees by Scruff and Scruff’s attention is turned by Sam flipping in the air, kicking the shield to the side. You rose to your feet, readying yourself for the opportune moment. Once you found it, you flung yourself at Scruff, sending the both of you to the ground and the shield away from the both of you. You resituated yourself to straddle his stomach, this position didn’t last long because he flipped the both of you. Slamming your back against the ground, he gripped your wrists, yanking them way up high causing you to groan out at the stretch. He released you but not before delivering a swift punch to your cheek.

Your vision blurred, but you could make out Bucky going head to head with Scruff again. Scruff threw the shield at Bucky after kicking him into a lift. Luckily, Bucky was able to catch the shield and shift it to his own arm before Scruff attacked him again. Scruff pressed the shield tight against Bucky’s body, then began speaking to him.

“Why are you making me do this?” You and Sam shared a look then watched as Scruff tossed Bucky clear across the room into an electrical outlet, short circuiting his arm. Sam flew at Scruff, trying to catch him off guard. He was unsuccessful in his efforts, ending with Sam facing Scruff as you crouched in Scruff’s six.

“This isn’t you, John.” Sam began trying to reason with him. He is who is way past reasoning, not Karli. Scruff’s head tilted as he spoke in that condescending tone again.

“We could’ve been a team.” Sam didn’t say anything. He deployed his wings, flying past Scruff and sending a small grappling hook to try and take the shield. Scruff flipped through the air, then braced himself against one of the lifts. You came up from behind him and tackled him off the lift, sending Sam to the ground as well. As you landed, you hit your head on a piece of broken concrete, disorienting you. The shield was out of Scruff’s hands, and he wasn’t happy about that. They both dove for the shield but Scruff managed to get to Sam first, landing on top of Sam.

“I am Captain America.” Scruff grunted out as he ripped Sam’s wings from his suit. You watch in horror as Scruff holds the shield, ready to give Sam a face lift. Bucky knocked Scruff off just before he could land his hit. Scruff had pinned Bucky to the ground after driving Bucky’s head into the side of the shield. You hauled yourself to your feet again, wrapping your arm around Scruff’s neck, hindering his movement. Sam came from the front, delivering a harsh blow to Scruff’s face. You continued to hold your chokehold as Bucky and Sam pried the shield off his arm. You heard a sickening crack as Sam withdrew from the hoe down. Bucky rose to his feet and spit out the blood collecting in his mouth, reaching out his hand for you to take.

You walked over to Sam, you hoped that would be the end of it all. Lo and behold though, Scruff got up yet again. “It’s mine.” He growled possessively, starting towards Bucky again. Bucky ducked lifting Scruff over his shoulder and Sam threw his whole body weight into Scruff who was dangling off to the side of Bucky. The three of them laid on the floor, bloodied and sweaty as you stood over them.

Bucky rose to his knees, the shield in front of him and he used the leverage of it to stand fully. He dropped it next to Sam, pausing for a few seconds and then walking away completely. You stood next to Scruff, in disbelief. “This just got a whole lot more complicated didn’t it, Sam?” He didn’t reply to you, but you watched as he tried to wipe the blood off the outer rings of the shield.

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

You stood outside the building where Donya’s funeral was held, listening to Sam talk to someone else named Torres. Bucky had walked right past you, not a word said. He was shutting down and running away, at least that’s what it looked like. You wouldn’t know because the whore wouldn’t talk to you. You sat down on the stairs, head in your hands frustrated about what was going on. Your phone began buzzing in your pocket, so you took it out ready to deny the call, until you saw who it was.

“Shar.” You sighed into the phone speaker.

“Y/N. How’s it going?” You could hear the smugness lacing her tone.

“Alright, just get it over with. Tell me that you told me so, just make it quick.” She scoffed.

“I mean, I did tell you so, but now I don’t want to tell you that I did.” You laughed at her.

“You realize you just did, though?” You sense that she was smiling.

“What happened?” Her tone switched into a serious one on a dime.

“Walker took the serum, went batshit, killed a Flag Smasher, and then beat the shit out of Sam, Bucky and me in order to keep his precious shield because he ‘is Captain America.’” Your voice morphed to imitate Scruff.

“Well, that was bound to happen sometime. He’s all over the place.” You nodded, pulling the phone away from your ear and switching to speakerphone so you could talk and scroll through Twitter.

“He’s already trending. Captain America Kills Innocent Man, what a great headline. You know the worst part about all of this, Shar?” You switched the speakerphone off, bringing it back to your ear. “I don’t even think that Karli is in the wrong here. She’s doing what she’s doing for good reason, she’s just doing a shit job of getting her point across.”

“Yeah, well she’s becoming a pain in everyone’s asses, so that puts her on everyone’s shit list.” Sharon took a deep breath before continuing. “You need to get out of there. I know you’re not technically in the States, or alive, but you know how the government is. They’ll find a way to get you, if they want you.” She was lecturing you out of love, you knew, but it was frustrating for you still.

“Can you not trust that I know what I’m doing?” A grunt released from her end of the phone. “No, seriously Shar. We grew up the same, went through all the same training, what makes you know so much better than me?” Deep down, you knew that wasn’t what she meant, but you had always felt second best when it came to Sharon.

“It’s not that you don’t know what you’re doing.” She sighed heavily. “It’s that you were gone for five years and things have changed. Governments have become stricter and you don’t understand that they aren’t the same as they were.” You remained quiet, expecting her to say something else. “That’s why it’s good you have me because I know how they work.”

“You know how they work, do you?” You were fed up with her. “Then explain to me how you have access to satellites, Sharon. That’s not something that you just happen upon.” Your tone was accusatory. “Are you working for the Power Broker behind my back?” You heard a sharp intake of air on her end. “I swear to God, Sharon. We promised each other we wouldn’t work for that asswipe. He’s involved in too much bad shit. If the US government were to ever find out that we were working for the Power Broker, they wouldn’t grant us pardons, Shar. Did you fuck this up for us?”

“I didn’t fuck anything up and you need to check your tone when you’re talking to me.” Your brows shot to your hairline.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. We need to work this shit out. I didn’t fuck anything up and neither will you if you come back to Madripoor right now.” You were shocked, Sharon had never talked like this to you.

“I really don’t think I would be comfortable being somewhere that I’m clearly not welcome anymore, so I’m going to stick with what I know.” Sharon began backtracking as you resigned yourself to being on your own for the first time in forever. “Goodbye, Sharon.” You ended the call and shoved your phone into the pocket of your jeans.

You dropped your head into your hands in defeat. Being on your own was daunting and you weren’t sure how Sharon survived without you well enough to grow your business all on her own. You tried to think of your next move, deciding that sticking with Sam would be your best bet. He’s the easiest to guess where he’s going since Bucky has been mentally MIA towards you.

You recalled Sam mentioning his sister and nephews, thinking he would go there to check on them. You hauled yourself out of your slump and to Zemo’s apartment to collect your things before going. You were going all in if you were going to do this, so why the fuck not?

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

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

The Falcon and the Newlyweds

Summary: After Steve travels back in time to reunite you and Bucky, he retires as Captain America, but you’re just getting started. (aka exactly like TFATWS but better?)

A/N: All credits to original owners/writers of TFATWS series. Added details/characters and minor storyline changes are of my own imagination.

Word Count: 6.2k

And away, and away we go!

Episode 5

When Sam suggested the three of you go find John, you shook your head vehemently. “No. No, I don’t want to,” you whispered.

“Doll, we’re afraid we’re gonna hurt him, too,” Bucky admitted.

You still continued to shake your head. “I-I’m not worried about us… I-”

“Oh…” Bucky said in sad realization. “Oh, doll. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He lost control, and I think even he knows that. He’s still the idiot we hate. And yeah, by the looks of it he managed to snag a vial of the serum, which makes him like me now.” Bucky shuddered at the thought. “But someone needs to find him.”

“I don’t want to…”

“That’s okay. Sam and I can go. We can take you back to the apartment, and then Sam and I can go.”

“No. Bucky you can’t go.”

“I’m not letting Sam go by himself.”

You looked over at Sam, who was standing there with his hands in his pockets. “Look, Y/N. I know you saw an ugly side to John. I get that fear. Okay? I do. Buck used to scare me the way John just scared you. But Buck’s right. Someone has to find him, and it’s better if we do it. And look, throughout all of this, have Buck and I ever let you get close to getting hurt?”

“No…”

“Exactly. And if it makes you feel better, Buck and I will do the talking. Just come with us so we know you’re not alone. Please?”

“Okay,” you finally nodded. “But please don’t fight him if you don’t have to.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, much less agree with it,” Bucky tried to joke. “Sam, you still got Sharon tracking him?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

~~~

Sam led the way to a building that was closed off for construction, easily locating John inside. “Walker,” Sam started.

“You guys should see a medic,” John interrupted. “You don’t look so good.” Long gone was the high and mighty tone he usually addressed you all with. His tone was also void of any attitude or malice. It was chilling to see him looking and sounding so void.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam started again, as John started to walk past you all.

“What?” he scoffed, the attitude and raised voice coming out. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky said simply, keeping his own tone calm to not anger the other man, and cause another outburst of rage. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Sage advice from one previously unhinged super soldier to a currently unhinged one.

“I’m not like you,” John insisted.

Bucky gave a sad shake of his head, and you gripped his hand in yours reassuringly. If John didn’t want to listen to someone who’d been where’d he’d been, and under much worse conditions, that was on John, not Bucky.

“Listen,” Sam stepped in. “It was the heat of the battle, okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. John, you gotta give me the shield, man.”

Slow realization swept across John’s face. “Oh… so that’s what this is. You almost got me. I should’ve known when she didn’t have any smartmouthed remarks for me.” His gaze swept over you, chillingly so.

“Mistakes happen,” you said, your voice quiet. “Let them help you so this doesn’t get worse.”

“You don’t wanna do this,” John said, his attention back on Bucky and Sam.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky responded.

There was a momentary pause as Bucky and Sam looked at each other, and nodded. In a swift movement, Bucky guided you backwards with his arm, then advanced on John with Sam.

Two against one, you watched as Bucky and Sam tried to outfight John, punches and kicks flying in every direction, vibranium fist colliding with vibranium shield. You pressed yourself against a wall, making yourself as small as possible, heart hammering in your chest as you watched the scene unfold.

Any fear you had turned to blood boiling rage when John chucked the shield, nailing Bucky in the chest as sending him crashing backwards as John advanced, Sam lying on the floor from a hit he’d taken.

“Why are you making me do this?!” you heard John scream as he pressed the shield into Bucky, pinning him between the metal and construction vehicle. He grabbed the shield that Bucky had a firm grip on, throwing Bucky sideways across the warehouse.

Seeing red, you quietly reached down to pull out a knife. Aside from the shootout in Madripoor, you never needed to use any of the weapons strategically placed throughout your suit. And despite everything, you didn’t actually want to shoot John, mostly at the risk of missing and hitting either Bucky or Sam. But while John wasn’t exactly in stabbing range, and you weren’t all that amped to get into stabbing range, you could throw it.

With a slow breath, you adjusted the sharp steel in your hand. You took aim, chucking the knife with as much accuracy and force as you could, watching as the blade hurled end over end before sinking into John’s upper thigh, at the very convenient time that Sam flew straight into him. “This isn’t you, John,” Sam breathed heavily as both men stood face to face.

“We could’ve been a team…”

Not liking the way John didn’t appear ready to give up, Sam launched a rope that locked into the shield, engaging in a weirdly combative game of tug of war.

John lost his grip, and the rope came loose, the shield clattering against the ground. If you were fast enough, you could reach out and snag it. But with Bucky still on the ground himself, Sam holding back John for you didn’t inspire much confidence. Especially when both men dove for the shield themselves. But when Sam tackled John away from grabbing it, both men rolling further away from you, and the shield, you took your chance.

“I. Am. Captain America!” John screamed as he pinned Sam down, ripping Sam’s wings off his suit.

“No, you’re not!” you said, charging into John with the shield with all your might. John’s body rolled off Sam’s, and yours rolled with the shield, clinging on to it for all you were worth as you and John both staggered to your feet. “Shit,” you breathed with a happy grin. “That was cool!” Then, your eyes went wide, before you screwed them shut, raising the shield the block John advancing on you. “SHIT!” you screamed, bracing for impact.

The impact however, never came as Bucky jumped into action at the sound of your voice, raining blows down on John. “Don’t! You! Fuckin’! Touch! Her!” Each yelled word was a new hit, as Bucky fought John away from you.

“It’s mine,” John panted like a child who was being forced to share his favorite toy against his will.

“It’s over, John,” Sam told him.

“It’s mine!” John snarled, taking a swing at Bucky.

Bucky blocked it, grabbing the back of John’s neck with his vibranium hand, and punching him in the face with his other hand. “Y/N, shield!” Sam ordered.

Not needing to be told twice, you tossed Sam the shield as Bucky picked up John, and slammed him into the shield, the force of the impact sending all three men crashing to the floor in a chorus of groaned grunts of pain, the shield lying uselessly on the ground once more.

Bucky was the first to recover, grabbing the shield, and rising to his feet. Wordlessly, he walked over to Sam, dropping it next to him. The look on Bucky’s face said more than his mouth ever could, the anger that he had helped Sam get a shield he’d given up so easily needing no reason to be physically voiced. “C’mon, doll,” he said simply, turning and walking out of the building, leaving John and Sam where they lay.

“We’re not gonna leave Sam here, are we?” you asked in a whisper, jogging to keep up with your husband.

“Right now? Yes.”

“Bucky… It’s been a long day. And I know you still have your issues about Sam and the shield, and what it all means to you. But it’s Sam. He’s our friend, and partner whether you want him to be, or not.”

“I know,” Bucky answered you through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m only leaving him for right now. Now, let’s talk about you, and what you did.”

You sighed. “What? Are you gonna yell at me about how I should have kept my distance? How you and Sam told me not to engage with John, and how I didn’t even want to go in there in the first place, so I’m completely batshit for doing what I did? That I could have gotten hurt, or worse? I know all that, Bucky. So please, spare me the lecture.”

“That was half of it, yes…” he admitted. “But what you did was also incredibly smart, and got Sam the shield.”

You shrugged. “I just got mad, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but it got Sam the shield. And it potentially saved us too. John was… That’s not a fight I’m eager to have again, that’s for damn sure. Between that fight and the one earlier… Knowing that you’re okay, and Sam probably physically feels worse than I do right now is really the only thing helping me feel somewhat okay right now.”

“Well, let’s get back to the apartment, and I’ll patch you up like old times.”

Bucky smiled fondly at long buried memories. “Mmm. Nurse Y/N. I always liked her.”

~~~

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli,” Sam reported over breakfast the next morning. “But so far, they only found her followers. They’ve searched a camp nearby, and just like the last camp they searched, nothing. She’s gone. We’ll never find her.”

“Hey, you got your sleeve back,” Torres’ voice chirped as he walked into the living room, and you wondered briefly where he’d come from, but you figured he probably arrived when Sam did, and given him the full run down of the GRC’s movements, much like Sam was giving you and Bucky now. Torres pointed at Bucky’s left jacket sleeve, once again reattached to the jacket he was wearing. “No? Yeah… okay then…” Torres said to no one in particular as Bucky stood there in silence, with his trademark stoic stare.

Still silent, and clearly still angry with Sam, Bucky turned on his heel to exit the room. “Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam wondered.

“Alright, good to know you survived,” Torres chipped again in a goodbye of sorts as Bucky stalked off down the hallway.

“He’ll come around,” you said as a half-assed apology for Bucky. “He’s… ya know. So, what else do we need to know about the Karli situation? Or the John one?”

Sam shrugged, looking over at Torres. “What’s our next steps?”

“Captain America killing a foreign national in public? It’s kinda like a big deal. Like international incident big. Folks higher up on the payroll are all over it now. So, unfortunately…”

“They’re taking jurisdiction,” Sam guessed.

“Yeah,” Torres nodded, his attention falling to a duffle bag at Sam’s feet that contained the snapped wings of his suit. “What happened to these?”

“So is there anything we can do?” you asked as Torres started examining the duffle bag.

“Not really. As I was telling Sam, they’ve cordoned off the whole camp, and Karli’s a ghost. After what went down, she’s laying extra low. Like under underground.”

“That’s why it makes sense for us to get involved,” Sam said. “The longer we let her regroup, the harder it’s gonna be to find her.”

“She’s got people helping her from all over the world, on all platforms,” Torres pointed out. “She’s really, really good at this thing.” He ran his hands carefully over the splintered wings. “How’d these break?”

“John,” you answered while Sam sighed, taking in all the information Torres was providing.

“Anyways,” Torres went on, “all we can do now is sit tight, and just chill. Sometimes there’s nothing to do, until there’s something to do.”

“That’s bizarrely wise,” Sam said with a small laugh.

“It means we can train,” you interjected. “Be prepared for whatever comes next.”

“The lady has a point,” Torres agreed with you, his eyes flickering longingly to the shield that lay on the table, remnants of the blood John had splattered on his now gone.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam nodded with a smile, looking at you. “Find your husband, and let’s get to work.”

Thankfully, all you had to do was turn your head, finding Bucky stalking back down the hallway with both yours and his suitcases in hand. “B- Oh, hey. We going somewhere?”

“Home. Well. Sam is. You and I are making a pit stop first.”

“So you finally found Zemo?” was Sam’s guess.

“I have an idea of where he might be, yeah.”

“You know, sometimes you still scare me Buck. The staring. The eerily calm voice. It’s creepy, man.”

“You wanna get to work, or not, Sam?”

~~~

The pit stop ended up being Sokovia, Bucky giving you a full rundown as to why he figured Zemo would be there on the flight over. He also told you of the plan he had. And sure enough, as the two of you walked up to the memorial site, Zemo was standing in front of it, his back facing you.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said as you and Bucky got within earshot. “Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky deadpanned, finger clicking the safety of the gun he had ready at his side.

Zemo turned towards you both, unthreatened by Bucky’s action as his attention focused on you. “The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned you and Sam, but you wouldn’t listen. Just as stubborn as Steve was, the two of you.” His gaze shifted to Bucky. “But you. They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere. And there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice,” Bucky answered, his face conveying no evidence of whether or not that statement was actually true. “But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled at what he believed to be the naivety of Bucky’s words. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.”

The gun in Bucky’s hand clicked again as he loaded what you knew to be nothing, but Zemo rightfully assumed to be a bullet into the chamber, raising his hand, the barrel of the gun mere inches from Zemo’s forehead. Zemo went pale, but kept his composure calm, even nodding at Bucky like he was giving the man permission to pull the trigger.

You watched as Zemo sucked in his breath while Bucky pressed ever so lightly on the trigger. But all that came out of the gun was an empty clicking sound. Eyes still locked on Zemo, Bucky opened his other hand, the bullets clattering to the ground.

Silently, the Dora Milaje walked up, surrounding Zemo. “Ladies,” he greeted, before addressing Bucky one last time. “I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye James. It was nice getting to know you, Mrs. Barnes.”

Two of the Dora Milaje escorted Zemo away, while the third talked briefly with Bucky about their own plans for Zemo. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf,” she added as a small warning.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. Then, “Hey. I may have another favor to ask of you.”

~~~

After your visit with Zemo, you and Bucky headed home.

“Buck said you got a few good ones in on that new Cap guy. Good for you,” Steve smiled proudly.

“I did okay, I guess. Got out better than Bucky and Sam, that’s for sure,” you shrugged in modesty. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Yeah, he got back a few days ago. But just as soon as he stopped by, he was gone again. Something about seeing the old man in Baltimore?”

“Bradley,” you and Bucky said in unison. “He’s uh… like you and me,” Bucky added as an extra explanation when Steve cocked his head in confusion. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, if that was a few days ago, where’s Sam now?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “My guess? He went home to see his sister in Louisiana. You guys still not talking after what happened?”

You looked at Bucky, and shook your head. “No. Bucky won’t say it, but he’s still never forgiven Sam for giving up the shield in the first place. And now he’s even more mad he had to help Sam get it back, because-”

“None of this would have happened if he hadn’t given it up in the first place,” you and Steve gave your best Bucky impression together.

“1.) I don’t sound like that. And 2.) I’m right. None of this would have happened if Sam had kept the shield. Not the shit with Walker anyway.”

“But Sam’s still family. And we’re still Avengers. And we still have a job to finish with Karli,” you pointed out.

“What? So you want to go to Louisiana and find Sam?” Bucky asked you.

“That would be a start.”

“Doll, we just got home. Don’t you wanna be home for a bit?”

“Not when there’s still work to be done. And you and Sam gotta put this whole mess behind you once and for all, because all Riga proved was that it takes all three of us working together to take down John.”

“And that barely worked,” he reminded you.

“Which is also why we all need to train together. Not you training me here while Sam does God knows what in Louisiana. We need to be an actual team here, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “Alright. I’ll book us a flight first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Why not book it right now?”

Bucky looked at Steve, clearing his throat before leaning in close to your ear. “Because of reasons I can’t say in front of your brother, doll.”

Your eyes went wide and your cheeks turned bright red at Bucky’s insinuation while Steve clapped his hands loudly together. “Okay. I think we’re done here.”

~~~

You’re sure we’re in the right place?” you asked Bucky as you approached a dock crowded with people and supplies.

Bucky only nodded as he climbed in the back of a truck lifting a huge pallet with ease at the same time you heard Sam’s voice wonder “How do we get it off the truck?”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said as he set the pallet aside, turning to see Sam’s shocked expression.

“Surprise,” you grinned, waggling your fingers in a wave at Sam.

Sam stepped around the truck to get closer to you and Bucky, the shock on his face now a questioning look.

Bucky set a suitcase down on the bed of the truck. “Just dropping this off. Sign for it, and we’ll go.”

“Bucky,” you hissed under your breath. This was not part of your plan at all.

“I called in a favor from the Wakandans,” Bucky explained to Sam.

Before Sam could say anything in response, or you could berate Bucky under your breath again, a pipe started hissing loudly, and a woman was rushing over. “Sam!”

Sam wasted no time in rushing over to assess what the damage to the pipe was and how to go about fixing it, grabbing a nearby wrench as the woman looked at you and Bucky.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

“Hi,” she smiled back.

Bucky sighed, watching what Sam was doing before going over. “Hold on, hold on. You gotta go up.” He took the wrench from Sam, pushing him out of the way, quickly tightening to the loose bolt on the pipe until it stopped hissing.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?” Sam asked as Bucky set the wrench aside.

Bucky thought about it for a second, looking at the vibranium appendage. “Well, I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right-handed. So, this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it,” Sam nodded.

“It’s nice,” Bucky complimented. “You want any help?”

Sam looked at Bucky, sighing deeply. “Yeah…”

You and the woman looked over at Bucky and Sam, rolling your eyes. “Men…” you muttered. Then, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Sarah,” she smiled back. “Friends of Sam’s, I take it?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, her eyes roaming over Bucky. “And who are you?”

“I’m Bucky,” he grinned charmingly at her.

Sam punched him in the right arm as hard as he could.

“Ow! What the hell, Sam?!” Bucky growled, rubbing at his arm.

“What is it with you and people’s sisters, man? How did Steve not beat your ass?”

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she looked at you, yours and Bucky’s name clicking in familiarity. “Oh!” she said, a hand covering her mouth as she looked at you, “I’m so sorry!”

You howled with laughter as Sam hit Bucky in the arm some more. “Seriously?! How did Steve not obliterate your ass?”

“He was like a foot shorter and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet,” Bucky shrugged. “Now will you stop hitting me? Doll!” He turned to you with puppy dog eyes to help him. “Weren’t you the one saying I needed to learn to be friendlier to people?”

“Friendlier, not flirtier,” you clarified, tears rolling down your cheeks from how hard you were still laughing. “Now help Sam with the damn boat, Sergeant Charmer.”

It was an interesting morning watching Bucky and Sam work on the boat, while you helped Sarah in the house making meals. “It’s probably a good thing Bucky’s from another time,” she commented as she caught you staring dreamily out the window for the millionth time.

“How do you mean?”

“A man that looks like that, and knows it? In today’s society? Not usually a good mix.”

“Oh, those types have always existed,” you said with a small chuckle. “Bucky and Steve used to fight them quite a bit.”

“And you? Having to fight off the hoards of women that no doubt threw themselves at a man like that?”

You laughed again. “Very rare occurrences. Bucky is, uh… attentive that way, I guess.”

“Well, you’re lucky to have a husband like Bucky. Men like that are hard to come by, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Funny thing is, if you ask Bucky, he’d say he’s the lucky one.”

“Well, lunch is about done if you wanna bring these plates out to them for me.”

You thanked her, loading the plates up in your arms before walking outside and over to where Bucky and Sam were. “Lunch time!” you called out.

Both of their heads swiveled in your direction, Bucky clutching at his heart dramatically. “Oh, a woman after my own heart.”

“Sarah made lunch, I just helped,” you told him, handing him a plate.

Sam snickered, taking his own plate from you, “Thanks for helping her,” he told you, then in a louder voice that was almost a shout, “Thank you, Sarah!”

“You think Karli’s gonna throw in the towel?” Bucky asked, as you all took a spot and dug into your lunch.

Sam shook his head as he swallowed his bite of food. “I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Any idea on how to stop her?”

“I got Torres working on something.”

“Well, Zemo says there’s only one way.”

You all said nothing for a minute, eating your lunch and thinking quietly to yourselves before Bucky broke the silence. “Well. Y/N and I gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Gonna get a hotel room for the night. Crash, ya know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well, there’s two of us. We don’t wanna impose, or anything. I really just came to give you that,” Bucky nodded at the suitcase the Wakandans have given him for Sam.

Sam snorted. “Like Y/N didn’t all but march your ass on the plane to get here. So just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt-” Sam rambled.

“Okay,” Bucky cut him off with a chuckle. “I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

You and Sam laughed too, before Sam pointed at Bucky, “But don’t flirt with my sister.”

“Why would I do that?”

Sam looked at you, “He doesn’t get it, does he?”

You shook your head, “He never really did.”

“What don’t I get?”

“It’s how you interact with women in general, Bucky. They find you charming,” you explained. “Niceness is mistaken as interest.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“Just keep the charm around my sister in check, or I’ll help Y/N cut you up, and feed you to the fish.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

~~~

That night, instead of a hotel, you and Bucky slept in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house, while Sam offered to take the couch.

Both of you awoke to the sounds of Sarah’s sons making a ruckus down the hall, and Sam’s tired call out of “Hey!”

You rolled on your side, to find Bucky already looking at you with a smile on his face. “What’s got you so happy this morning?” you asked, kissing his nose.

His shoulders shrugged. “Something about this is nice. Waking up next to you in a house. Sound of kids.”

You gasped softly in a teasing manner. “James Barnes, are you saying you want a quiet domestic life?”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “You knew that was what I wanted. What our lives were supposed to be like when I got home. You wanted the same thing too, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I still do. I just didn’t know you still did, given how much everything’s changed.”

“For a while I didn’t. My focus was… elsewhere. But it’s been something that’s been on my mind again since you’ve been back. But I wanted to give us both time to adjust. Catch up for lost time, just me and you. And then… ya know. But yeah. This,” he twirled a finger about the room, and the sounds of the house coming alive, “is still something I want.”

“Well, it’s still something I want, too.”

His kiss was heavy with need as his lips crashed into yours. “God, I love you.”

~~~

The shield bit deeply into the tree Sam hurled it at. “Son of a b-” he muttered, dashing over to wedge it free.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Bucky told him.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Sam repeated in a mocking tone.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I got an idea.”

The idea ended up being taking rubber mats to bound around the trees, Sam giving it a test once they were done. The shield bounced off the mat, flying straight back to Sam who caught it with ease. “Yeah, alright,” he conceded. “That’s way better.”

“How’s the shield part feel?” you asked.

“That part feels weird.” He launched it again, the shield ricocheting off one mat into another before Bucky caught it. “The legacy of that shield,” Sam continued, “is complicated to say the least.”

“When Steve told us what he was planning, I don’t think any of us really understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we?” Bucky spoke up.

You and Sam shared a look, Sam jerking a thumb at you, “Well, I understood. And so did she. But glad you’re finally catching up.”

Bucky sighed, “Fine. I didn’t understand. Point is, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” He lifted the arm the shield was on towards Sam for Sam to take.

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely, taking the shield.

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault,” Bucky went on to say. “I get it. It’s just… that shield… For a while it was the closest thing I had to a family. Or it was a huge part in me getting my family back anyway. Because if Steve never took it up in the first place… Well, when you retired it, it felt like giving up. Made me question everything. Like first Steve retired. Then you retired the shield. Everything that saved me was done. Like I was nothing but a completed mission.”

You and Sam stayed quiet, letting Bucky spill out the confession he now found the words to express. But after a long enough pause on Bucky’s end, you reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I know both Steve, and the shield mean a lot to you. But it doesn’t define you, Bucky,” you told him softly. “You are not who you are because of Steve. He might have helped, but he is not the reason. You are. You’re the one who put in the work.”

“She’s right,” Sam agreed with you. “You gotta stop looking at other people to tell you who you are. Let me ask you, you still having those nightmares?”

“All the time,” Bucky nodded. “It means I remember. It means a part of me is still there. Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.”

“You up for a little tough love? You wanna climb out of that hell you’re in, keep doing the work.”

“I’ve been making my amends.”

Sam scoffed. “No. You weren’t amending, you were avenging. And teaching Y/N in the process. You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier because you thought it would bring you closure. But if it actually was, then your nightmares wouldn’t be happening. At least not with the frequency they still do.”

Bucky looked at you, both of you thinking about Yori back home. “You’re not allowed to talk to Sam anymore if you’re gonna blab everything I tell you to him.”

You smiled, knowing he was only teasing. “We’re a team, Bucky. Looking out for each other is what we do.”

Bucky shook his head. “Definitely not a team.”

“Nope,” Sam agreed with Bucky.

“We’re not that good,” Bucky laughed.

“Definitely not,” Sam agreed again.

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And uh… partners?”

“Coworkers.”

“But, we’re also a couple guys with a mutual friend.”

“But the friend’s now gone,” Sam pointed out.

“So we’re a couple of guys.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

You snorted at their boyish back and forth antics. “The word you’re looking for is ‘family’ actually,” you interjected.

“Just uh… call us when you have a lead on Karli, and we’ll be there,” Bucky told Sam.

“Yep. And uh, thanks for the help. Meant a lot.”

“Course,” Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder, and you and Sam gave each other a quick hug. “C’mon, doll. We got a flight to catch.”

~~~

Back home with no idea for how long, you and Bucky set to work on a more rigorous training for you.

Mornings quickly became filled with drilling you in various hand-to-hand combat techniques in which Bucky barely broke a sweat, and you ended up drenched in enough of your own for the both of you.

While you relished in your morning routine with Bucky, it was the afternoons you found particularly interesting after you came out of the bedroom to find Bucky sitting in front of his laptop. “Whatcha looking at?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you peered at the house listings on the computer screen.

“Domestic dreaming,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen as he patted the sofa cushion next to him for you to join him.

“Oh, so when you said you still wanted this, you meant you wanted it now,” you teased as you moved around him to take the offered seat.

He shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. Thanks to Stark, everyone that’s still around is pretty well off. And I forget when exactly, but at some point Steve and I were able to get our GI funds.”

“That’s nice,” you noted, now understanding why finances had never seemed to be an issue despite neither of you actually working.

“Yeah. And I figured raising a family in a shoebox apartment isn’t part of that domestic dream. So…”

“So here we are,” you supplied.

“So here we are,” he repeated with a nod. “Oh, this one looks nice,” he said, clicking on one of the options.

“It is,” you agreed, watching as Bucky clicked through the pictures of the 3 bedroom home. “Big enough to raise a family. Small enough to not be obnoxious.”

“Mhm,” Bucky murmured, the mouse hovering over the link to schedule a viewing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned.

After that, it wasn’t uncommon for yours and Bucky’s afternoons to be filled with meeting with realtors and attending open houses, weighing all your options in the evenings. And with the type of dedication Bucky had towards house hunting, it wasn’t long at all until you found a place you both fell in love with.

“C’mon, doll,” he roused you one morning like he always did. “Gotta go train.”

Normally you bounded out of bed, excited for a new day of training exercises, but today you swatted a hand at him, batting him away. “No,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up over your head, and turning away from him, the action making your stomach roll. You let out a long, low groan.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice taking on a note of concern. Hands pulled the blanket from your face, before he was feeling your forehead, checking for any unusual warmth. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” he noted with a frown.

“Gonna be sick,” you announced, springing from bed and racing for the bathroom.

Bucky followed worriedly, one hand pulling your hair out of your face, the other rubbing soothingly at your back as you dry-heaved into the toilet. “Okay, no training today. We do have the meeting with the realtor later to sign the last of the papers and get the keys. But I can ask Steve to come keep you company while I go do that if you’re not up for it.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head and rising shakily to your feet. “You don’t have to bother Steve. It’s just a stomach bug, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, let me at least help you back to bed, and make you some breakfast, okay?”

“Fine,” you conceded, letting him support your weight as he led you back to bed. “But I’m not hungry,” you told him as you pulled the blanket close around you in bed.

“Not hungry, or worried you’ll be sick if you eat?” he questioned the validity of your statement.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “At least try to eat some toast for me? Maybe having something in your stomach will help.”

“If you get it to me before I fall back asleep, I’ll try,” was your compromise.

Quickly, Bucky raced into the kitchen, as you closed your eyes wondering why you suddenly felt so miserable. When you’d been sick in the past, there’d always been signs leading up to it. But this sickness had caught you completely off guard.

“Gotta sit up for me, doll,” Bucky’s voice had you opening your eyes again, spotting him standing next to you with a plate in his hand.

You groaned, sitting up against the headboard and taking a begrudging bite of the toast.

He chuckled again. “I forgot how stubborn you get when you’re sick. Way more than you normally are.”

“Not sure how not wanting to vomit toast, and wanting to sleep makes me stubborn, but okay,” you said, taking another slow bite.

“Aren’t there usually signs before you get sick? I thought there used to be signs.”

“There are signs. Or there’s supposed to be. I dunno what the heck is happening.”

His brows pulled together in curious confusion. “You’re not…” his eyes shifted to look at your stomach pointedly. “Are you?”

Your eyes went wide at the suggestion, before you shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe?”

“Shit…”

“Would it be bad if I was?”

“No!” he rushed. “God no. Just…”

“We talked about all of this back in the forties, it became irrelevant for decades, and now that we started talking about the possibility of it all again, it’s all happening at once.”

“And we still have the Karli situation, yeah. But it’s fine. It’s more than fine. Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy?”

“Please?”

Ten minutes later, Bucky held you tight as you waited on the test lying on the bathroom counter with wide and tearful eyes. “Holy shit…” you both breathed in unison, as a small plus sign appeared in the result window. “Holy shit!”

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids

#tfatn #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #rogers!reader #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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carelessannie · 3 years

Note

Dark/Hydra Steve x Bucky - Breeding kink/ Cum denail (a/b/o)

Thank you anon for the horniest prompt I’ve gotten so far— I honestly sat up last night just thinking about this.

(I didn’t do the cum denial though... hope everything else is pretty satisfying...)

Plus, I’m really excited to write some Stucky, so thank you anon!

Warnings: general Hydra Trash Party warnings, dubcon and coercion, omegaverse, forced heat/rut, drugging, captivity, breeding and forced pregnancy, identity porn, mild violence

---

“The Omega’s in there."

Bucky hears the muted instruction, and tried to shrink against the wall. The cell they threw him in is small, mostly white with tall walls and chrome vents. He’s not sure how long he’s been here, how many hours or days since he was taken from his and Steve’s apartment— drugged and brought here.

He’s well versed in enduring captivity, he has to be. Three tours with the Army Rangers and a day job working for Nick Fury don’t provide him room for anything else. He’s more concerned for his mate— the sweet, beefy Alpha who is more than likely captive in a nearby room, an innocent bystander in Hydra’s nazi quest to dominate... humanity, probably. Bucky’s lost track.

Five men file into the room, and Bucky studies each of them, surprised when the last one is devastatingly familiar.

“Steve! Thank god you’re alright. Did they hurt—"

He’s kicked in the side roughly by one of the Hydra agents, throwing him violently back to the cell floor. He coughs, hacking up a wad of blood that he spits at their feet. Rude.

“Quiet, Agent Barnes, and listen. We’ve brought you the perfect Alpha, able to provide us with the vital results we need. He will stay with you until extraction."

The man speaking nods to the others, quickly backing away and out the door until it’s just Steve left standing in the cell, face drawn and conflicted.

When the door shuts, Bucky stumbles to his feet and into Steve’s arms. The Alpha scents so clinical, distressed and empty, but Bucky still burrows close and holds him tight.

“I’m so sorry Steve, I should have told you... I should never have put you in danger."

Steve strokes his hair and presses a kiss into the crown of his head, “It’s okay Buck, we’ll get through it."

They end up sitting together in a corner of the cell, wrapped in each other’s arms as Bucky fills him in, sharing details about his job and the possible rescue that could be coming for them. Steve listens and nods along, his face drawn and worried as Bucky keeps explaining, trying to comfort him.

“I know Director Fury will assume Hydra took us. They’ll probably come for us in the next 48 hours."

“What if they don’t, Buck?” Steve holds him closer, scenting under his ear, “They told me what they want extracted."

Bucky stutters, “O-oh, what... what is it?"

There’s silences as Steve ducks his head, face riddled with an array of emotion, “They want a pup."

Oh.

“So... vital results is actually code for..."

“A baby, yes. They told me... if we don’t fuck by Friday, they’ll send in another Alpha to do the job."

There’s an underlying growl to Steve’s words that makes Bucky shiver, wiggling closer at the possessive display by his Alpha.

“We’re gonna be okay, Steve. Shield will come for us tomorrow or the day after, and we won’t have to think about that."

It will be fine.

They take Steve from him soon after, injecting both of them with a blue liquid before leading Steve back out the door, away from Bucky. It’s probably a day later when Steve is dumped back in his cell, thankfully unmarked and mentally sound. He feels half way to insane in this white cell— he can’t imagine how a civilian would feel.

It’s a few hours before they take him again, and both of them spend it wrapped together, finding comfort in each other’s arms. They inject the blue liquid again before leaving, taking Steve away and leaving Bucky alone.

Day three is when Bucky starts to worry. He wakes up sweaty, his stomach in knots and heart pounding— usual signs for his heat, even though it isn’t due for another month. Dammit. Not only that, but there’s been no sign of rescue, not even a hint of being saved. Bucky spends most of the day pacing the room— looking for a way out and trying to work a plan of escape.

He keeps getting distracted, thinking of the steady heat building in his gut, and curses his damn Omega biology.

It only gets worse when Steve’s thrown in with him. Bucky’s hair stands on end, crouching low as the scent of Alpha rut hits him full force. There’s no where to go, no where to run.

“Omega,” the Alpha rumbles, stalking closer and pinning Bucky up against the wall. He tries to resist his instincts, telling him to submit and roll over and show his throat. He growls in response and tries to shove the Alpha off— Steve, it’s Steve— but his wrists are easily trapped above his head, displaying the full length of his body for the Alpha to take.

His Alpha ducks down and fits his teeth over Bucky’s neck, right where they’d planned on putting a mating bite during his next heat. Fuck, “Steve, Alpha,” he whimpers, already drowning in his instincts, “I think they drugged us, Steve."

Steve nods, still holding Bucky in place, and he murmurs, “M’sorry, Buck,” against his pulse point.

Bucky pulls back, holding his Alpha’s face in his hands, “It’s okay. Not your fault. I was ready to be yours anyways."

A tear trickles out of Steve’s eye, betraying his despair and emotion. He gives Bucky a sad smile, a brief moment of humanity, before turning them and pushing Bucky to the floor.

The rough movement shocks Bucky’s instincts. Both of their scents flare, combining together into a viral, fertile mix of Alpha and Omega, perfect for each other. Bucky lands on his hands and knees, stretching his back temptingly as he feels Steve hook fingers into his waistband, ripping the cotton pants clean off his body.

“Alpha, please,” he begs, high and whiney, as Steve yanks him closer, baring his dripping, needy hole to the cool, cell air. There’s a wet slapping noise— most likely Steve touching his own dick— before a blunt pressure pushes at his rim, forcing it’s way inside.

Bucky cries out, half in shock and half in pleasure. He knew an Alpha’s rut could get violent, but he didn’t expect the abruptness, the complete lack of prep as Steve starts shoving himself in. He pulls Bucky back with a snarl, spearing the Omega open wide on his cock, before withdrawing and snapping himself back in, hips pressed flush together.

They both howl this time, Bucky’s body desperately clenching against the intrusion as his Alpha sets a relentless pace, fucking into Bucky harder and faster than they have done in the past. After having a moment to adjust, Bucky goes limp in Steve’s bruising grip— sinking into the floor and arching his back instinctively.

His smaller, Omega cock is dripping steadily onto the floor, betraying the insistent arousal of his heat. Steve’s knot is steadily expanding and teasing Bucky’s rim, so close to filling him, to blowing wide inside.

There’s an arm around his chest, pulling him up on his knees as Steve’s thrusts slow, grinding his knot against Bucky’s entrance until it slips in, locking them together. The width of it settles against Bucky’s sweet spot, pressing incessantly, as he pants in Bucky’s ear, “Come on, come for me, Omega, come on."

Bucky shudders, a sudden pain blooming in his shoulder as Steve bites down, bonding them together, and he falls over the edge. He trembles in his Alpha’s arms as they come together, their orgasms working to synch their emotions, their souls, into a sweet harmony.

They settle together on the ground, Steve curled up behind him. Bucky can feel him pumping load after load into his womb, filling him, putting a pup in his belly. He breathes deep and settles back into their bond— horrified to suddenly feel despair, agony and guilt radiating off his Alpha.

“S-steve? What’s wrong— are you okay?"

A sobbing hiccup follows, and Steve holds him tighter, whispering a litany of, “I’m sorry, Buck— I couldn’t... I’m so sorry, Omega,” into his hair.

It’s concerning. Bucky lets his Alpha hold him, trying to send reassurances through the bond as the knot goes down. He can’t imagine what has the Alpha so upset, feeling responsible, but they promised to get through this together. They will get through this together.

Almost the moment his knot deflates and they pull apart, the cell doors are opening, allowing five Hydra agents to file in. Steve jumps in front of Bucky, guarding his vulnerable mate from the agents.

“Stand down, Captain."

Steve freezes, looking between the agent and Bucky, before lowering his guard and standing to his feet. He tucks his softened cock back into his pants and stands at attention, and Bucky just stares, horrified.

“... Steve?"

They ignore him, turning to his Alpha, “Well done, Captain. You may return to your quarters."

“Alpha!” Bucky yells, trying to get Steve’s attention as the Alpha walks towards the door, eyes wide and expression devastated.

Before he leaves the room, Steve turns, suddenly, and meets Bucky’s eyes, “I didn’t have a choice.” They push him from the room before he can say any more, and Bucky can feel the deep, devastating guilt through their bond.

Bucky shakes his head. No. There’s no way his Alpha, his Stevie, could be working with Hydra.

His horror must show in his face because the agent in front of him laughs, “We thought you were better than this, Agent Barnes. But there is a reason why Captain Hydra is our greatest Asset."

They leave him there, in a puddle of their shared release, alone and undressed. And he gave them everything, told Steve everything. His mate for almost a year was just building trust, getting close, and now they have him. By the new mating bond bleeding from his neck, by the seed most likely catching in his womb, tying him to Steve with their shared pup.

He feels furious. He feels defeated. Everything in him wilts, melting in a heap of grief and anger in the same corner Steve just breaded him in, knocked him up and left him.

But most of all, he feels Steve’s guilt, strong and deep through the bond, calling to him. Begging for his forgiveness.

#stucky #htp #shrunkyclunks #drabble #prompt fill #omegaverse #omega bucky #alpha steve rogers #just... check the warnings above #there’s a lot #tw in the description #whump bucky #open ending #modern bucky

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tintinwrites · 4 years

Text

trust and ice cream | Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

A/N: I hope this lives up to the way I’ve been hyping it lol.

Rating: 18+

Warning: Dominant!Frankie. Naughty words. Spanking. Pussy slapping. Frankie calls you one (1) slightly derogatory name two (2) times. Orgasm denial. SEX. There’s aftercare!

Word count: 2,500, apparently!!

Summary: You ask Frankie to dominate you in bed.

GIF credit: damerondjarin

Tags: @littleferal @elenamiria @the-bird-suit @assaultsofthought @pascaliprincess @feelmyroarrrr @shakespeareanwannabe @marvel-excelsior @petrelliforcongress @lokiaddicted @bisexual-space-slut @theindiealto @jenniferdaniels12 @arkofblake @lilangeldevil006 @mostly-megan @ezrasarm @pascalz @rzrcrst @deanfanatic @lilmishka0-0 @aisling-beatha @throughsmilingeyes @damerondjarin @nominalnebula @magicsuperheroes @theocatkov @himbopoes @sarcasmisakindofmagic @r2fucku @jeeyowdann @thefineandnobleartofavoidance (If you liked the post to be tagged, I tagged you in case that meant you wanted to be lol)

------------------------

“Hey, baby.”

You walked up behind the couch where Frankie was lounging as he watched some game on TV, grabbing his hat and tossing it aside before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing the side of his neck.

“Someone’s in a mood…” He groaned, leaning his head back to allow you a little better access.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day...there’s something I wanted to talk to you about…” You slid your hands down his chest.

He ran his fingers up your arms, turning his head to look at you. “What’s up, baby?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, your lips trailing along the bits of facial hair on his jaw where you knew he’d squirm a little bit even though he insisted he wasn’t ticklish.

“You know how we were talking about trying some new things in the bedroom?” You pulled back slightly, running your hand through that fluffy hair of his.

“Yeah?” He fondly recalled the more intricate positions you’d been trying and the night you’d used flavored massage oil on each other.

“There’s something I want...if you want to…”

“I’d literally do anything you ask me to in bed. You know that, right?”

You laughed softly, pressing your face into his hair and shaking your head. “Even if I asked you to dress up as a clown for me?”

He nodded. “Totally. But please tell me that’s not what you’re about to ask for.”

Walking around to the front of the couch, you leaned over and put your hands on his thighs, kissing him gently. “I want you to be rough with me.”

“You...really?” He stared up at you as you pulled back, his hands sliding up your legs then moving around to gently squeeze your ass.

“You can call me names...dirty talk...boss me around…” Each idea made him sit up a little bit straighter.

“What if I hurt you?”

“We’ll choose a safe word...like...banana.”

He thought for a moment then nodded with a slight smile; he’d never really done anything really kinky in bed before which was why the two of you decided to explore together, and the thought of taking control in the bedroom like that…

He was squeezing your ass so tightly that you let out a squeal of a laugh, batting his hands away. “Just let me know when you’re in the mindset to treat me like a slut.”

“—go wait in our room for me.” He needed a moment if you were going to talk like that.

You nodded, kissing him again before you walked to the bedroom, sitting on the foot of the bed and bouncing your knee impatiently. This was something you’d been thinking about for quite a bit, the thought of Frankie pinning you down and whispering filth into your ear making you wet all on its own.

He walked into the room with a dark expression on his face, obviously reaching in deep to all his more dominant fantasies to put on a character, eyeing you hungrily. “Stand up.”

You did as he said without a second thought about it, hands clasped in front of yourself and shoulders back like you were trying to look pretty for him or something.

He always thought you were pretty, evident in the way he continued to look you up and down like he wanted to fuck you right then.

“Take off your clothes.” The way he sounded when he was being dominant made your knees shake slightly, but he tsked as you quickly started to unbutton your shirt. “Slowly. I want to watch you strip for me.”

You squeezed your thighs together briefly, undoing the rest of the buttons a little slower and trying to make it a bit of a show from him. You pushed your breasts forward a bit to show off the lacy bra you’d worn to work as you pulled your shirt off your arms and let it drop to the floor.

Your skirt was next, pushed slowly down your thighs until it was pooled around your ankles, now in just your bra and panties as you stepped out of it.

He was watching silently as you unhooked your bra and let it slide down your arms, then he stepped forward the moment you’d stepped out of your underwear.

He held his hand out to you with his eyebrow raised expectantly and your walls fluttered slightly at the idea that he wanted you to hand over your panties, quickly grabbing the lace off the floor and pushing it into his palm.

“These are mine now.” He held them up in your face, dangling off the end of his finger, before crumpling them up and shoving them into the pocket of his jeans.

“Fuck, Frankie.” You stepped forward to kiss him, but he grabbed onto your arms and spun you around.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that, baby. Can you bend over the bed for me?” He nudged you forward.

“—yes, sir.” He really liked that based on the playful swat to your hip as you bent over the foot of the bed.

You might’ve been wiggling around a bit to entice him as you waited, growing a little impatient the longer he didn’t do anything. The longer he took, the more desperate you were for his touch, and you actually moaned when he put his hand on your back.

He chuckled, running his hand up between your shoulder blades then all the way back down where he gently rubbed your ass. “I want you to count for me.”

This was all he said before pulling his hand back and slapping you firmly on the ass; it wasn’t cruel whatsoever, but it was hard enough that you let out a little yelp and jumped forward a bit, a moan falling from your lips.

The idea of Frankie — the love of your life and one of the sweetest men in the world — spanking you turned you on so much that you forgot about his instructions, rubbing your thighs together as you enjoyed the wetness and pulsing between your legs.

“I don’t hear counting.” He stroked where he’d slapped you, squeezing lightly.

“One,” you said quickly.

He smacked you again, this one a bit harder and making you let out a soft cry, fisting the duvet on your bed.

“Two!”

He then landed two slaps on the other side of your ass that weren’t much harder, but still enough that he could admire the way your ass jiggled and listen to your gasps and yelps.

“Three, four!” The swat of his hand against you only made you wetter and you were happily waiting for the next slap, only for his palm to smack right against your pussy and practically topple you fully onto the bed with a loud yelp.

“—oh, shit, that was okay, right?” His voice was gentle like usual, slightly panicked that he’d taken this game a step too far.

You giggled, touched by his worry. “Frankie, it’s more than okay, baby. I really liked it.”

He was silent for a moment and you were pretty sure he was nodding in relief, stepping back into the role he’d created. He slapped between your legs again, though he was definitely pulling back a little to be sure he didn’t hurt you, purposeful as his fingers briefly tapped against your clit in a way that made your hips arch towards him.

“You’re a slut for me, huh?” Frankie never talked like that and it made you moan; or maybe it was the way he was running his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers.

Maybe it was both, nodding eagerly to let him know that you were, indeed, a slut for him.

“Only you, baby. Only for you.” You bucked into his touch slightly, frustrated by him barely brushing his fingertips over where you needed him.

“I want you to lay on the bed and open your legs wide, let me see what belongs to me.” He sounded a little unsure with a hint of smugness, finding that he liked dominating you like this the more he tried it.

You pulled yourself up onto the bed and turned to lay on your back, letting your legs fall open so he could see how wet your pussy was for him.

Frankie loved every part of you, but your pussy was probably his favorite thing on you. He loved to touch it, to look at it, to be inside it, and he especially loved using his mouth on you as much as you would let him.

And you would’ve let him eat you out several times a day if that was even slightly plausible.

He wasn’t going to eat you out for this particular kink, though.

His eyes never wavered from your cunt as he undressed himself almost methodically, smirking because he knew your eyes would be on his cock like they always were.

He was half-hard for you and only hardened more when he climbed on top of you and let himself press to your thigh, rutting against you for a moment.

Your hands reached to hold onto his shoulders and he quickly grabbed your wrists in a firm grip, pinning them down on the mattress by your head. “You didn’t ask permission. Keep your hands here.”

He eyed you for a moment to be sure you were listening as if you wouldn’t before he released your wrists, letting his gaze roam a bit lower. His lips attached to the side of your neck and you moaned loudly, making yourself keep your hands on the mattress when all you wanted to do was grab onto his hair as he moved to suck on different parts of your skin.

His lips moved along your shoulders, sucking and nipping, his hand moving down between your legs where the tips of his fingers brushed over your folds.

As your hips lifted into his touch, he brought his hand back and slapped you hard on the pussy again, glancing up at you with a hint of worry in his eyes that turned to satisfaction at your soft moan.

His fingers would soothe you by stroking your clit or dipping into your entrance then he’d smack you again, going back and forth between the two until he could tell by your moans and whimpers that you were close to orgasming.

That was when he pulled away and you whined, looking so grumpy that he chuckled and kissed you softly.

And he flipped you right over onto your front, gripping your hips firmly and pulling them up so you were on your hands and knees. “Hold yourself up for me, baby, I’m gonna go a little fast, okay?”

How he could be so sweet and filthy at the same time, you didn’t know, but you didn’t care much as he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside you swiftly, both your moans mixing together like a harmony.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck you fast, only waiting a moment to be sure you were enjoying it before he started pounding into you; holding yourself on your hands was usually an easy task on the rare occasions you did doggy style, but you were gripping at the sheets in an attempt to stay up.

Not that you weren’t enjoying yourself, moaning loudly with each thrust and pushing your hips back to meet his, turned on all the more by him dominating you.

His fingertips were pressing hard into your hips firmly so he could hold onto you but still gentle so you could move as you wanted, grunts falling from his lips with how much he was enjoying this too.

“I love how much of a slut you are for me. You’re so gorgeous, and fun, and perfect, and all of this is for me?” He sounded like he didn’t believe someone like you could want him, and you moaned because you loved him so much.

He moved his hand to stroke at your clit as he slammed into you, always rather quiet during the actual act of sex since he was enjoying himself so much. Just the way he was fucking you and touching you was enough, though, and you were quickly clenching around him and crying out his name.

A few thrusts and he was coming into your still fluttering cunt, groaning loudly.

You let out a yelp when he collapsed on top of you as per usual and his weight pushed you right down onto the mattress. “Frankie!”

“Shit,” he mumbled, forgetting that doggy was not the best position for him to lay on you and quickly rolling off you.

He laid there on his back and you on your stomach next to him, both of you panting as you came down from your highs and then laughing lightly when your eyes met. Sex with Frankie seemed to make you giggly and you thought it was perhaps because you loved each other too much.

“That was okay?” He reached out to gently stroke your cheek, his brows furrowed with concern in case you didn’t enjoy yourself.

“More than okay. Did you like it?” You knew he was definitely sounding like he liked it, but you wanted to be sure it wasn’t for your benefit.

“Fuck. Yes. It’s not really something I’ve ever thought about doing before, but I loved it.”

“Since we’re trying new things in bed, maybe we could do it again with some toys added in.”

Frankie smiled, grabbing you and pulling you into his side so he could kiss you tenderly. “Wait here, okay?”

You watched him move out of the bed and walk into the bathroom, coming out a moment later with a wet washcloth that he used to wipe both your cum off your thighs. He then walked out, this time going out to the kitchen and walking back in with your favorite ice cream and two spoons.

He pulled you between his legs once he was back in the bed, pushing you to lean back into his chest as he opened the ice cream carton.

“What’s all this for?” You asked, taking one of the spoons and tilting your head back to look at him.

“I just thought I should probably take you out of that headspace, remind you that I love you and that you’re safe with me.” He kissed your head, then took a big spoonful of ice cream and shoved it into his mouth.

“And that you eat like a bear.” Your comment made him nudge you playfully and you laughed, taking a scoop as big as his and eating it.

“Seems like two bears.” He reached around you for more.

“Hey, I was gonna take that scoop.”

“Take the scoop next to it.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Well, you’re gonna need to take it out of my mouth if you want it.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier imagine

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 years

Text

Clingy

Bucky Barnes x teen reader (platonic)

Alright here we go, this is probably absolute crap since I’m not that good and I don’t believe in editing, but enjoy anyway. 💜

Description: you’re Pepper Pott’s niece, and you’re known to spend every second of your free time hanging around Stark Tower—and lately, specifically Bucky. He’s become your best friend, and all the Avengers tease you mercilessly about how clingy you are. You know they’re only joking, but can’t help feeling insecure about it, but you never truly believe them until Bucky seemingly confirms it.

Warnings: none really, heckin ton of hurt feelings but then total fluff

Clingy. Annoying. Useless.

All these and more ran through Y/N’s head on a regular basis, mental scars from an emotionally abusive past. No one in her life had ever stayed with her, as her father had left when she was three, and her mother had gone through too many boyfriends to count since then. Eventually her mother had decided that Y/N was the problem, that men were leaving her because she had the worst daughter in the world. So she had shipped her off to Aunt Pepper, and told her she never wanted to see her again.

All of this rejection had taken its toll on Y/N, and she began to struggle with her fear that people would leave her. This fear showed itself in the form of clinginess. Everyone who knew her knew she was clingy, and most didn’t seem too bothered by it.

The person that she tended to cling to the most lately, was none other than Bucky Barnes. He had become an older brother to her, almost a father figure, and she no longer knew what she would do without him. If you couldn’t find Y/N, at any given time, your best bet was probably Bucky’s room, binge watching with him, or in the gym watching him work out.

The team had been quick to notice her clingy habit, and was equally quick to point it out, and to make jokes about it. Of course it was all in good fun, the team teased everyone mercilessly, and they had no way of knowing how insecure Y/N really was about her habit.

They had no way of knowing that she sometimes cried in her room at night because of the comments sent her way.

She felt so stupid crying over it, they were her friends and they teased her to make her feel included, like one of them, as strange as it sounds.

“Hey Barnes, how’s your Shadow?” Sam grinned as he stepped into the living room to see Y/N curled up against Bucky’s side as he watched Dick van Dyke reruns and she attempted to sleep. “Shadow” had been her nickname for a while now, although Sam was mostly the only one who used it.

“Would you leave me alone for two seconds?! Gosh you’re like a shadow, just go away I don’t want you here!”

The words of Y/N’s mother flashed into her brain, but she pushed them away and continued to feign sleep. Sam didn’t call her shadow in a mean way, he was just joking.

Sam isn’t like her. He’s your friend.

“She has a name, Wilson,” Bucky protested lightly.

“Her name doesn’t fit her, she should be called Shadow,” Sam joked with a grin.

“He’s got a point you know,” Y/N heard Steve’s voice now, he had probably come in from the kitchen. “She’s practically your shadow Buck.”

“You guys tease her too much, I think it’s starting to get to her,” Bucky said quietly. Y/N felt a spurt of pleasure at Bucky standing up for her. She didn’t know what she would do if he did really think she was clingy, or annoying.

“Oh, she knows we’re only joking, besides, it’s true,” Sam insisted.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true, I don’t think she likes it,” Bucky grumbled, and Y/N felt her breath catch. She quickly settled down so the boys wouldn’t think she was awake, but it was hard to hide the hurt she had started to feel inside. He really thought that they were right?

“Doesn’t it get annoying?” Steve asked quietly. “I mean I’ve seen her go into your room at night to sleep with you.”

“She has nightmares sometimes, I don’t mind it,” Bucky insisted.

“Come on, you don’t feel even a LITTLE bothered by this?” Sam pushed.

“Guys-“

“Come on Buck, there’s no way it isn’t annoying.”

“I mean...I suppose sometimes...”

Y/N didn’t want to hear anymore, she wanted to disappear, she wanted to run, and cry, and scream, but she wasn’t sure how to do it.

“See! Why don’t you tell her to back off a bit?” Sam asked.

“I can’t just...she needs me, and I...” Bucky couldn’t seem to find the right words.

But it didn’t matter, Y/N had heard enough. She stretched slowly, as if just waking up, and mumbled “I’m going to bed,” before quickly disappearing into the elevator.

She hadn’t even reached her floor when the tears began to fall.

**********

Bucky felt his whole body stiffen when Y/N moved next to him. Had she heard? She mumbled something about going to bed, before walking a little too quickly to the elevator and pushing her hand against the button a little too hard.

Bucky didn’t waste a second. He bolted over to the stairs and raced to her floor, arriving before the elevator to be greeted with the sight of Y/N’s crying form when it opened.

She glances up and quickly looked away when she saw him standing there.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, and tried to walk past, but Bucky gently grabbed hold of her arm

“No, wait-“

“Bucky I’m fine. Let go.”

“You aren’t fine. And I should never have said those things about you, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes you did. Don’t pretend, I know I’m clingy, and I know I’m annoying, and-“

“Hey, whoa,” Bucky interrupted. “Don’t say that. You could never annoy me.”

Tears were now streaming down Y/N’s cheeks, and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

“That’s not what you told them.”

“I was being an idiot. Really. They just...” Bucky took a deep breath. He wasn’t very good at opening up to people. “They were starting to make me feel a bit insecure, because...I like that your clingy. But I didn’t feel like I could tell them that.”

Y/N was still crying, but now she looked a bit confused.

“Y...you like that I’m clingy?”

“Of course! Kid, I need you. You aren’t the only one who has nightmares, and I love it when you come to me at night, it helps keep my own nightmares away. I like that you’re with me all the time because then I know that you aren’t in danger, I know I can protect you because you’re always around. I didn’t want to say that to Sam, because he’s an idiot, and I just couldn’t say it in front of Steve, because it would worry him. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. Those things I said were horrible, and they were lies.”

Y/N had stopped crying at this point, but here eyes were red and puffy and she was sniffling. She didn’t appear quite ready to accept his apology, or his explanation. Bucky understood. If someone had called him out on his insecurities so blatantly, he would feel just as bad as she did.

He nudged her shoulder gently.

“Wanna go watch The Little Mermaid?” It was his form of a peace offering. The Little Mermaid was one of the few movies Y/N hadn’t been able to convince him to catch up on yet.

A slow smile spread across her face.

“I’d love to.”

#bucky barns fanfiction #Bucky #bucky barnes #marvel #x teen!reader

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

White horse

Authors note- title is inspired by the song by taylor swift. happy reading💕

here’s part two

Please do not steal or repost my content. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- It takes you almost dying for you to confess your love to Steve

Tw: life threatening situations, guns

masterlist

Steve Rogers was perfect. There was literally nothing wrong with him. He was unlike anyone you had ever met. He opened doors for you, he was respectful, and just so gosh darn cute! When he'd scratch his neck, a blush creeping up whenever you put your hand on his thigh or said handsome he was.

He was unlike anyone you had ever met or dated. Although the bar for that is pretty low. He was supportive of your career. Often encouraging you to make decisions that scare you. He took care of you without making you feel small. He was an amazing listener who didn't mind listening to your rambles or rants at all.

He reminded you of a golden retriever. Mostly because of the golden hair and how he'd pout and make puppy eyes whenever something didn't go his way. Also because he was fiercly loyal, attentive and fun to be around.

Sure he had his flaws. Like how he absolutely did not think before acting or how reckless and stubborn he was. Or how he always has to have things a certain way. You can't keep the wet towel on the sofa or it will get wet. Or how you can't wear your shoes inside his apartment.

But you didn't mind these flaws one bit. You barely even considered them flaws, he was absolutely flawless and amazing in your eyes. You loved him with all your heart and being. But then... why couldn't you say it?

"Wait so... he's a wolf?", steve asked turning from the screen and looking at you. You both had been cuddling and watching the twilight series to cross it off his list. You thought this kind of movie wouldn't be his cup of tea but you were surprised to see him so absorbed in it.

"Yeah he's a werewolf. A human who can turn into a wolf on command. They're not real though"

"You never know. I didn't think aliens were real but then.." You were interrupted by your timer going off.

You quickly got up and put on your oven mitts to remove your lasagna from the oven. Steve followed behind you.

"What's this?"

"Oh I figured I'd cook some lasagna for you. You said you really liked it remember?", you replied putting the lasagna down on the dinning table. "Maybe we should let it cool down a bit. What do you say?" You looked up at him.

He stalked towards you and bent his neck to get closer to your face.

"Y/n... This is.. I know you don't like cooking so much. You didn't have to do this for me you know?"

"I know. But I just felt like doing something for you. Taking care of you, you know?", you smiled up at him nervously. You had taken a risk doing this. What if he didn't like your cooking? You were sure he'd appreciate the effort, but still..

"Doll... You don't have to do anything for me. But thank you so much for this. I love you", the words rolled off his tongue easily.

You stared at him dumbfounded, shocked and put on the spot. Maybe he doesn't realise what he had said. You didn't know if he expected you to say it back.

"I... ", you stopped yourself being rendered speechless. He looked at you expectedly. "We should probably eat before this gets cold" You said and averted you gaze and started setting the table.

The rest of the evening was a bit awkward but you hadn't mentioned it since. It was best to act as if nothing had happened. Probably.

After trying to put on your fake lashes for the fifteenth time you finally give up. You had been going out for a girls night with Nat and some other friends to a club. You picked up your phone to see a text from Steve.

Hey doll just got back. You wanna grab some dinner?

No, I'm sorry I'm going out with Nat.

Oh don't worry about it. Have fun. Be sure to call me when you get back.

There it was. His perfectness. Still worrying about you and being so protective over you. It made you feel warm but strangely scared at the same time. What would it mean if you just let someone take care of you or give into them? What if you lose yourself in the process? Or what if he takes advantage of your trust.

You sighed and sent him some kissy faces putting your phone in your clutch.

He was such a caring kind soul. You wish you could just say you loved him and showed him off to the entire world.

But the last time you had declared your love and gave your everything to someone, you ended up with a broken heart.

You knew Steve would never break your heart or do anything to hurt you, but he was a superhero and you were just an engineer. Your circumstances were anything but normal. So many things could go wrong.

He had women throwing themselves at him. Not just because he's captain america but also because he's Steve. Kind, caring, sweet and amazing Steve.

You knew he'd never cheat on you, but how long will it take him to realise he's out of your league, or how he deserves so much more than a broken person who doesn't understand his worth.

"Why are you so gloomy? ", Natasha asked and broke you out of your train of thoughts.

You hadn't told anyone about you relationship. It was all too new and you weren't ready to go down to HR just yet.

Part of you didn't believe it was real. Maybe you were waiting for something to go wrong. But it was so real. It was the realest thing you had ever felt.

"Oh you know... just work I guess" You half heartedly lied. Nat must've known something was up. She wouldn't suggest just hitting up a club, it wasn't her scene. She'd much rather catch up with you in a quite cafe.

"Mm-hm", she said clearly not believing you.

Maybe she planed to get you drunk to have you spilling your secrets.

The club was cramped with people. You could only get in because Nats name was on the list. One of the benefits of being an Avenger. The music was piercing your ears. You both managed to get drinks and grab a seat.

You tried to ask Nat to start dancing but she couldn't hear you over the loud music. You followed her gaze and saw suspicious looking men staring at you both from the vip lounge.

They were surrounded by big bodyguards and women. They looked like they were upto no good.

"Nat what's wrong?", you asked her getting more worried by the minute.

"I'm not sure. I think we should get out of here", you recognised the alarmed look on her face. You had seen it on Steve multiple times. Sometimes he would assess and analyze everything around him, look at all the exits, prepare for the worst. He wouldn't even let you sleep near his bedrooms door in case someone broke in at night, he'd want to protect you. He probably thought you didn't notice it but you did. You just chose not to acknowledge it not wanting to embarrass him.

"Ok", you agreed with her and tried to calm yourself. You both got up and ready to leave but were stopped by two huge guys.

"Black widow", one of them said and stared you both down. He had a sinister smirk on his face. "You made a huge mistake coming here", his threatening words were a huge contrast to his friendly tone and body language. "Follow us if you don't want to cause a scene"

"Actually I think we'll just leave", she retorted and held his gaze. You looked at the ground, not exactly sure what you were supposed to do.

"Please I insist. We wouldn't want to hurt these innocent people", he said nodding at his friends in the vip lounge.

"Alright", she smiled and leaned in to whisper in your ear "get out"

"Oh no no", he chuckled "she's coming with us"

"She's got nothing to do with you", you felt her getting stiff. You knew Nat was strong but even she couldn't take on so many men at once.

"She's not walking out of here either", he said. They both escorted you and Nat to a private room. You could barely see anything in the dim red light. There was a pole in middle of the room. You could see glitter and empty bottles everywhere.

You tapped your foot anxiously on the floor. Nat held your hand and gave you a small smile.

"It'll be okay, I promise", she whispered. You trusted her, you really did but how could either of you get out of this situation?

You saw some more men dressed in suits come on. One of them gave Nat a smile.

"Hey there Natalia remember me? You sent me to prison?"

"I don't remember every pest I crush", she snarked. Usually you were a fan of her snarky witty remarks, but now was really not the time or the place.

"Who's this?", he asked gesturing towards you. "Since when do you have friends?", you stared at an empty champagne bottle, to avoid his gaze, as if it was the most interesting thing you had ever seen. "Listen lady, Natalie is really not someone you would want to have as a friend. She'll stab you in your back without thinking twice."

You shut your eyes as hard as you could, wanting to be anywhere but here. "Hey", he scolds you using his gun to lift up your chin. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, will ya?"

"What do you want?" Nat asks desperately.

Tears start streaming down your face. You felt pathetic and small. How did you even get here?

Before you knew it all men in the room were shot down. You saw arrows sticking from their backs. That distracted the man holding a gum to your face. He turned around confused.

Nat kicked him in his shin and took the gun from him. Holding it to his head. "Guess who's going back to prison"

You sat there flabbergasted, not really processing what just happened around you.

"Hey there", you looked up and saw Clint with a few agents following him. "It's almost like you like getting in trouble."

"Thanks for that", she smiled at him " Hey you alright?", she asked you "I sent an sos to Clint. Not that I needed his help" to which Clint scoffed.

You nodded. "Good thinking"

"Steve's waiting outside for you. It took a lot of convincing to make him stay there", Clint said.

"What's Steve doing here?" Nat asked him. She wasn't even sure if you had ever met Steve.

"Oh you don't know", he giggled "she's his girlfriend! Sam owes me ten bucks. I knew he had a girl."

"Oh", she mused and looked at you her lips in a straight line pursed together.

"I'm sorry I should've told you", you smile at her sheepishly. "Can I go see him?"

***

You open the door and see him standing in the middle of the hallway. His hair disheveled, he was pressing his ear likely talking into the comms. The frown on his face sooths when he looks at you.

He starts walking towards you opening his arms. You run into them, grab his biceps and crash your lips onto his. Your teeth clash and hurt, it may not have been the most sophisticated reunion. You pull away a bit to look at him. He was smiling down at you. He looked exhausted, relieved and terrified all at the same time. You caress you cheeks and hold his face.

How could you have ever have mistrusted this man? He'd never hurt you, even if you didn't believe in anything else you had faith in him. You were more than willing to take this leap of trust, building a wall around your heart is no way to live. Especially when life is so short.

"I love you", you blurt and tears start flowing from your eyes " I've loved you since I met you. I was stupid to not say it before. I'm so sorry"

Steve wipes your tears and cradles your face. "Hey, it's ok. You said it now that's all that matters. I love you too" he says and you beam at him. "I just wish the first time you said it wasn't in front of Tony." he continues.

You look to your right and see Tony sitting on the sofa in the waiting area. Oh well, cats out of the bag now.

"Steve.. Tch tch" He starts shaking his head disapprovingly "you're stealing the nations youth. Craddle-robber"

Well you can't date Captain America without there being some teasing about it.

"Alright Tony" Steve says and smiles. You never liked how Tony was always so mean to Steve or how Steve never clapped back at him.

"Y/n, I thought you didn't like old men taking advantage of younger girls." He says with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Yeah well at least I have a boyfriend" You huffed and looked at Steve deciding to ignore him for now.

Maybe it was a petty to bring up Tony's myraid of commitment and intimacy issues but now that you're going to be official it was your duty to protect your man.

"We better get ourselves ready huh?" Steve asks still smiling. He couldn't bring himself to care about Tony he was just happy to have you in his arms. He decided he was never going to let you go.

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate au) -- part five

This part is allll action but that’s what you need to pay attention to (that sounds so vague and cringe-worthy,,, anyway). Enjoy! xx.

Warnings: a lot of h*ckin’ words lmao, but other than that just the same violence in the movie, angst (of course)

Bucharest, Romania.

You recognize some of the city from your dreams. You didn’t think it was possible to dream about what your soulmate is currently seeing because if that was the case, you can’t imagine what you would’ve seen through The Winter Soldier’s eyes. But when you recall a third building from your dream, you think it’s less of a coincidence than you originally thought.

The plan is simple. You and Steve are to go into Bucky’s apartment, wait for him (or find him already) there. Sam is standing guard outside, but he’s already said he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much. It’s one man against whatever forces get called in. It’s not looking to be in Sam’s (or your and Steve’s) favor.

Unfortunately, you think he’s right.

The end goal is to bring Bucky in alive. You desperately want to run away with him and disappear to some place where no one has orders to shoot him on sight, but you know that isn’t possible. Despite your confidence in Vienna not being Bucky’s fault, Steve still wants to do the right thing and bring him in. Even if he might be considered a criminal doing it.

Stepping inside Bucky’s apartment nearly suffocates you.

You’ve had dreams about this place. Multiple times.

You spin slowly in a circle, taking it all in. When you saw it in your dreams, it wasn’t this vivid. The bed wasn’t a small twin because you both fit on it. And newspapers weren’t taped to the windows. Because in your dreams, those aren’t needed. No one is watching the two of you there.

That’s how you want things to be.

Through the radio -- that Sam bitched about connecting you to -- you ask Sam if he’s got anything.

“Not yet,” he replies. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, then you freeze. Your back is to the doorway, but you feel Bucky when he enters the room. You don’t hear his footsteps and you imagine he wanted it that way, but you feel his soul just the same. There is no hiding one’s soul from its counterpart.

You turn around slowly, keeping your movements controlled. You don’t know who you’re about to meet. You know it’s Bucky, but…

“Heads up,” Sam comes through. “German Special Forces approaching from the south.”

“Understood,” Steve replies. He turns to look at you, realizing how quiet it’s gotten, only to find you standing in a staring match with your soulmate.

You should say something. Anything. But you can’t think of a damn thing right now.

After all this time, he’s standing here. The hat over his head only makes you want to take it off so you can run your fingers through his hair. He’s layered in so many clothes, most of them baggy. Hiding in plain sight is easier than some think, and he looks like he’s mastered it. No wonder you couldn’t find him for two years.

“Do you know me?” Steve’s voice breaks the tense silence, slicing right through the air.

Bucky’s eyes move from yours to Steve’s. His expression remains blank, giving away nothing. “You’re Steve.” He nods to the notebook in Steve’s hand. “I read about you in a museum.”

Sam’s voice comes back through. “They’ve set the perimeter.”

“I know you’re nervous,” Steve presses on. You feel useless standing here, saying nothing. Rendered speechless by the mere sight of your soulmate. “And you have plenty of reason to be.”

Finally, you find your words. “You’re lying.” Bucky’s eyes snap back to yours. “I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” Bucky asks incredulously, the first emotion he’s shown since he saw you.

You nod. “I’m your soulmate.”

Your voice shakes as you say it. Somewhere along the past two years, you had worked up the perfect fantasy in your head. The one where he’d recognize you immediately, hug you tightly, and say how glad he was to see you after all this time. The one where he’d turn to Steve and thank him for keeping his promise, for finding you.

But in every single fantasy, you never predicted what he says next.

“I don’t have a soulmate,” he says firmly. “I don’t know who you are.”

Before you have time to let yourself be upset over that, Sam’s voice returns. “You guys better hurry up with whatever the hell you’re doing.”

“Shut it, Sam,” you bite back.

“I wasn’t in Vienna,” Bucky says, looking at Steve. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“I know you don’t,” you murmur, causing Bucky’s attention to shift back to you. “I know it wasn’t you.”

“What do you mean you know?” Bucky asks again.

“I told you,” you try to keep your voice even, but you can feel his lies. You don’t know why he’s lying. You know these circumstances aren’t ideal as a first meeting, but neither was D.C., and you still dealt with it. You’re not asking him to kiss you right now. You just want him to admit he recognizes your face. “My name is Y/N. I’m your soulmate. Steve is your best friend. You made him promise that he’d find me, and he did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Again, Sam interrupts the conversation. “They’re entering the building.”

“Got it,” you reply. Now isn’t the time to talk to Bucky about this. You can be upset with him for lying later -- and figure out why he’s lying, too. Not right now, though.

“Listen, the people who think you were in Vienna are coming now,” Steve gets the conversation back on track. “They’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart,” Bucky replies without hesitation. You feel it in your chest. His acceptance. “Good strategy.”

“I’m not letting you die,” you hiss, nearly adding you son of a bitch at the end.

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised,” Sam’s frantic voice comes through the radio.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” Steve says, near pleading.

You listen to the footsteps circling all around, your hand already pulling out your gun.

Bucky slips off his gloves, revealing his metal hand. “It always ends in a fight.”

“Five seconds.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, seeing shadows outside. You’re caged in. “Goddamn it.”

“You pulled me from the river!” Steve argues. “Why?”

Bucky’s answer is full of lies. “I don’t know.”

“Three seconds.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve counters, clearly as fed up as you, but there’s no time left to argue.

Your heart is pounding, and despite Bucky’s insistence that he doesn’t know who you are, you still don’t feel so panicked that you want to shut down. You’re ready for the fight. Especially if it’s for him.

“Breach! Breach! Breach! Get the hell out of there!”

Grenades launch through the windows. You smack one right back out the shattered glass with the side of your gun, hearing it explode midair. Steve hits another with his shield. Bucky kicks the last over to Steve who covers it just in time, controlling the blast.

Bucky grabs you by the shoulders and wrenches you away from the window, just in time to miss a gunshot. His wide eyes stare down at you, almost like his reaction was involuntary. You’re grateful nonetheless, but there’s no time for exchanging thank yous.

You turn and kick the table, the added support from Bucky’s arm sending it flying and blocking the door.

Men swing in through the broken windows, firing rounds as fast as their weapons will let them. Bucky handles one, watching in bewilderment as you handle the other. Yours is knocked out cold in seconds thanks to Steve’s shield.

Another comes in through the back door that Steve takes care of, but not before Bucky starts trying to run, shoving the guy out onto the roof.

“Buck, stop!” Steve pulls him backwards by his arm. “You’re gonna kill someone!”

In such a quick movement that it makes you gasp, Bucky has Steve pinned to the floor. He punches the floorboard directly next to Steve’s head, pulling out a backpack.

He’s been planning for this day. Probably since the first day he moved in. Ready to run. Your other dream makes sense now. In it, you’re always chasing after him, but in an open field. It always ends the same, with him catching you in his arms. But you know reality won’t play out that way.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky says, looking up at you, for what reason you aren’t sure. He tosses the backpack out the door without looking.

“What the hell?” You say, mostly to yourself.

Another guard comes through the window, and once again, Bucky grabs you and hauls you over to him. This time he holds you into his chest, using his metal arm to block the bullets before Steve covers you both with the shield. Too much is happening for you to register the way he’s protecting you again, but he stops doing it before you can even blink.

Bucky sends Steve flying out the window on top of one of the men.

You give him a look and yell, “Seriously?!” but you’re cut off when his eyes widen, catching sight of the other gunman coming inside.

Bucky shoves you behind him, using his metal hand to block the bullets until he can knock the guy down. You kick the other in the chest, and Bucky finishes the job with a cinderblock.

“Damn,” you mutter, your train of thought ending when a gun outside the door begins shooting the hinges. “Fuck!”

Bucky moves you behind him again, his arm steadying you when he realizes he pushed you a little too hard. His eyes are apologetic, but given everything he’s said to you, you think you might be fantasizing again.

Bucky shoves the door forward when they try to break it down, effectively taking down three guards with it. He shields you once again when a man breaks through the ceiling, firing at Bucky.

“If you don’t know me, then why the fuck are you protecting me!” You yell, shoving Bucky away angrily. He barely moves, but it’s enough for you to start firing at some of the guards. Not headshots, because you aren’t that cruel, but enough to slow them down.

Bucky ignores your question and grabs onto the man still hanging from the ceiling, using him to swing down. He looks back up at you, almost remorseful, but you glare at him.

Steve returns in time to crush one of the radios a man was using to give information on Bucky’s whereabouts. He grabs you around the waist and jumps down to Bucky’s level.

You elbow the guy in the back of the neck as hard as you can, and Bucky’s expression is grateful.

You must be seeing things.

Guards are flung in every direction. Steve catches one from falling all the way to the bottom, giving Bucky a stern look as he throws the man back into the wall. You almost laugh at Steve’s “Come on, man.”

While you’re busy fighting and firing, Bucky jumps down the middle of the damn stairwell like an idiot. You hear him scream when he catches his arm on one of the railings, pulling himself up to the floor.

You kick another guard in the chest, knocking him out cold when his head connects to the concrete wall.

You run down the steps as fast as you can, narrowly avoiding shots and firing some of your own over your shoulder. You reach Bucky’s floor just in time to see him jumping from the window.

“Son of a bitch,” you curse. Heights are not your thing. They’ve never been your thing. And Bucky just jumped who knows how many stories down to the roof of the adjacent building.

Guards are closing in on you. Steve is occupied with another group. You don’t have any other option.

“Oh, fuck it,” you cuss, running forward, giving yourself no time to think about it before you jump.

Your legs flail as you soar through the air. You search the roof of the building down below and see Bucky’s backpack, but you don’t see him.

“Shit!” Your feet barely connect with the side of the roof before Bucky is catching you, rolling with you in his arms, but careful not to crush you with his weight.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He yells, shoving you off of him.

“Are you out of yours?” You fire back with just as much venom, elbowing him in the ribs. “Why do you keep protecting me? I thought you didn’t know me, huh?”

“I don’t,” Bucky grits out, grabbing his backpack.

From above you see a shadow. With what feels like natural instincts, you tackle Bucky to the ground, resulting in a very pissed off look, until he sees what just landed on the roof.

“A cat?” You mutter. “What the fuck is going on?” You raise your gun and fire, but the bullet ricochets. “A bulletproof cat. Great.”

Bucky growls and throws you off of him. “Stay behind me,” he orders.

“Fuck off,” you hiss.

Yet another fight begins.

Whoever the person is, they aren’t interested in you at all. Their focus is entirely on Bucky, which leaves you hiding behind some sort of pipe system while you wait for Sam or Steve.

“Southwest rooftop,” you say through the radio. “Bucky’s fighting some...cat.”

“Cat?” Sam calls back. “What the hell?”

“About to find out,” Steve mutters, and seconds later you feel his bodyweight thud onto the roof.

But then, as if there isn’t enough going on, a helicopter comes overhead.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groan, staying crouched and firing up at the copter’s tail rotors. “Sam? Little help?”

“Got him,” he replies, and a few seconds later, the helicopter is literally kicked out of the way.

You straighten and keep firing, worsening the damage, but unfortunately not enough to knock it out of the sky. Bucky manages to throw the cat off of him, giving him enough time to do more jumping, which only makes you more pissed off with him.

Does he just love parkour or something?

“He jumped, Steve.” You start running toward the edge and Steve joins you a second later. “Are we?”

Steve nods. “Hang on,” he says, grabbing you around the waist again before he jumps from the roof.

You squeeze your eyes shut, only opening them when you feel the two of you hit the ground.

“You okay?” Steve asks when the two of you break into a sprint.

“Fine,” you mutter, seeing Bucky up ahead, but then, just like that, he disappears, having jumped again. “I’m not cut out for this!” You scream, holding onto Steve again as you both sail down onto the busy street below.

Running like it’s the only thing you know how to do, you mentally punch Bucky in the face a thousand times for acting the way he is. How can he protect you one moment and swear he doesn’t know you in the next? Talk about hypocrisy.

You follow behind Steve, swerving to avoid hitting cars as you run after Bucky.

“Stand down!” The police yell through the speakers on their car, the sirens only adding to your stimulation and pissing you off further. “Stand down!”

“Ready when you are,” you say, nodding to Steve.

The two of you split up. Steve crashes into the windshield of the car and it screeches to a stop. Wrenching the door open, you shove the driver out, hopping in and locking the doors. Steve punches the rest of the windshield out of the way before sliding in, and you literally floor it.

Weaving in and out of the cars, you smack the sirens off in annoyance. This is not how you saw yourself spending today. Or how you saw seeing Bucky again turning out. This is ridiculous.

And the fucking cat. Who the hell even is that?

Speak of the devil, he latches himself onto the back of the car.

“Seriously?” You mutter, swerving as best you can, but it’s hard in a tunnel, and you’re not trying to cause any wrecks with innocent citizens.

“Sam, we can’t shake this guy,” Steve calls out.

“Right behind you.”

But you don’t know how far behind he is, so you start some more counter measures when you see more police cars speeding up next to you. Even slamming the car into the others doesn’t knock the cat off, and now you’re pissed.

Up ahead, police are coming at you from the other direction. You spot Bucky jumping to the other side, and upon realizing the only thing blocking it is barrels, you swerve and take the same route.

Bucky loses time when he steals a motorcycle, giving you enough time to catch up to him, but the goddamn cat is still on the back of your car. And you’ll be damned if that guy gets to Bucky first.

Somehow, the cat manages to crawl over the car and attempt to latch onto Bucky, but Bucky fights him off just enough before Sam swoops in and grabs him — finally.

But the cat puts up a fight, nearly dragging Sam down. An explosion happens ahead, caused by Bucky, no doubt, and you see Sam fling the cat directly into it.

It isn’t enough.

With the rubble everywhere, you can’t drive anymore, so you and Steve abandon the car, jumping over large chunks of concrete. Steve speeds ahead, tackling the cat and pulling him away from literally clawing Bucky’s eyes out.

Bucky seems more pissed than pleased to see you, not that you can be bothered to care right now.

Steve holds his shield, keeping the cat away from Bucky. Sirens wail and close in on all of you. Bucky, much to your annoyance, steps forward to put his body in front of you, his metal arm crossing over your body in protection. The action would warm your heart had you not just jumped off buildings for him.

A silver Iron Man suit appears from the sky, landing in front of all of you, both hands raised and ready to fire. “Stand down. Now.”

Steve puts his shield away and raises his hands. You do the same, dropping your gun to the floor. They’re probably going to take it anyway.

“Congratulations, Cap, Y/N. You’re criminals.”

“Who the hell are you?” You ask.

You don’t get an answer before men are storming forward and practically throwing Bucky to his knees. You’re shoved away by one of them and you hiss when your arms are wrenched behind your back. Bucky jerks himself out of their grasp, only to punch the guard that was rough with you. The guard lays unconscious on the ground with a broken, bloody nose, Bucky’s chest heaving as he’s shoved back to the ground.

You’re too stunned to resist arrest.

#i knew you #captain america: civil war #bucky barnes #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #angst city #cacw #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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buddiewho · 3 years

Text

@pleasehandmethebottle I saw your post. So I cracked my knuckles and give you this; it might be a little more, I don’t know jealous Buck, Eddie and Ana? Or like you know, conceal, don’t feel things on Eddie’s part?? I don’t know, hopefully it’s close enough:

Buck stumbled to his kitchen, pondering if he should polish of the bottle of wine. "Yeah," he shrugged and chugged the remnants. He stumbled even more back towards his couch, laughing a little bit. Honestly, he had no idea what sparked this urge to drink. Buck never thought he really stress drank, he only ever socially drank and that was mostly beer. With Eddie. With the firefam. With Maddie. Buck scoffed at himself. With Eddie.

"No," he chided out loud. "You're not going to think about him." Buck plopped onto his couch and grabbed the remote. Or so he thought.

"Well, I'm sure that the student understands his vice principal was doing the best she could. We all have to learn, ri-" Eddie's phone rings. "Sorry, give me a second."

"It's fine," Ana waves her hand. "Christopher might be calling." Eddie grins at the notion. She smiles back.

"It's Buck." Her smile fades and she takes a deep breath. Eddie left the last date due to Christopher and Buck, and so she let that slide because it involved his son, but just Buck...for some reason that nagged at her. She couldn't stop him though. Buck was Eddie's best friend, so he explained and after what happened before, Ana didn't want to make any mistakes. That nagging feeling was turning into annoyance because now for a moment there she felt like she was only going to be walking on eggshells this entire relationship.

"And...you've answered it," Ana said, when she finally regained focus and looked at Eddie. "I'm j-just-" Eddie put the phone on mute and laid it the table. Ana stopped.

"Wait, he's just drunk rambling. Let me get him off the phone."

"It's fine," she shook her head. "Go on," she said and picked up the phone for him. Eddie wasn't sure if this was a good thing or if Ana was being a bit passive aggressive. The latter didn't seem to worry him too much, because he couldn't deny the fact that Buck has called him so he took his phone back. Ana left him there.

"Buck!" Eddie didn't have to wait for him to come to the door. They exchanged keys very early on. For emergency purposes, Eddie reminded himself, so its not something to question. He found Buck standing in his dining room area, dribbling a basketball.

"Please tell me you weren't thinking of getting that bike off the wall, next."

"Oh, hey Eddie! I'm drunk, and I'm bored out of my mind."

"Have you had a glass of water?" Eddie didn't really let him answer. He walked to the kitchen, found the glass and filled it up. Buck had followed closely behind and didn't complain. He drank the water.

"Can we go to your house? I can't be here anymore."

"Are you bouncing more?" To be honest, Eddie hadn't seen Buck drunk before. He never imagined what it'd be like, but now it just seemed like he was bouncing some more, but with a little stumbling. Eddie reached out to steady Buck by his shoulders. Buck froze now and it made Eddie laugh. "Why do you want to go to my house?"

"We could play games with Christopher?" Buck pointed directly at Eddie's face, "I've got him doing really good at Scrabble ever since you banned us from the Internet a few weeks ago."

"Okay, that break was really only meant for me and Chris, but fine Buck. Unfortunately, Christopher is spending some time with Tia Pepa this weekend. I did want the weekend for me and-"

"Yes! Then it's just me and you," Buck shimmied away from the shoulder grasp that Eddie hadn't let go of. He chased Buck towards the door and slid in front of it before he could leave. "Come on! I don't want to stay at my place right now." Eddie could not tell if Buck was completely unaware that Eddie had been on a date which he was pretty sure he mentioned on the phone or if this was drunk Buck purposely ignoring that fact.

"What's so different about my house?"

"I don't know," Buck rolled his eyes. "It's just...I'm feeling restless here. I wanted to turn on baking shows, but instead I grabbed my phone and called you." Buck swayed on his feet.

"And you did a hell of a job convincing me to come for you instead of chasing after Ana who left our date." Buck merely shrugged at the mention of her and then he yawned. Eddie thought then he could distract him into falling asleep on the couch or something, but the second he moved from the door Buck dove for it. "Are you seriously running to my truck right now?"

"Yes, I am." Buck called out. __

"You came to my house to watch baking shows." Eddie rolled his eyes as he sat next to Buck on the couch. It felt a little odd. Odd probably because he missed Christopher. Eddie shook the feeling.

"Maybe I was feeling alone," Buck was starting to sober up a little bit. Eddie insisted the only thing he drink for the rest of the night was water and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"I'm sorry to hear that Buck," Eddie softly mused. "It's just, you can't ke-" Eddie's hands shot up in the air. "What are you doing, Buck?"

"Laying in your lap. I'm tired," he yawned. Eddie stared forward, the baking show looking out of focus the longer he stared. He really didn't know what to do with his hands which were now clenching into fists. Eddie relaxed them. Don't do it, Edmundo. You're in a relationship so you can't. We're just friends and he's feeling lonely, it fine, right? Don't do it. Eddie kept shaking his head as he thoughts went into overdrive. Screw it. The hands he didn't know what to do with found their task perfectly well. They tangled into Buck's hair, massaging at his temples a little bit. The craziest part is that Buck didn't flinch. Buck accepted it as if this had been something they were doing the whole time. It didn't take long for Buck to fall asleep.

Eddie chuckled. "I guess I'm talking to Ana." That odd feeling stuck with him the rest of the night. _ The next morning, Eddie woke to laughter. Chris had come home early with Tia. There were both standing at the entrance of the living room, enjoying the spectacle. Eddie didn't jostle Buck awake, he just sat there then finally said, "Buck was drunk. It's a whole story."

"Yes, it is," Tia Pepa said with a knowing grin. "You will tell it to me sometime."

Eddie nodded his head, "Yes, Tia Pepa." She smiled as her nephew asked, "So what time is it?"

"It's passed breakfast. Me and Chris had pancakes this morning," Tia told him. "He brought you some." Tia gestured to the takeout box in Chris's hands.

"And Buck is going to eat them," Chris said to them. "There's no way Dad is eating these now..." he laughed.

After some hugs and kisses, Tia Pepa excused herself. That meant it was now time to wake up Buck. Eddie looked down and to his surprise, Buck's blue eyes were wide open, staring up at him. "Did someone say pancakes?" he groggily asked.

"See I told you, Dad." Christopher was now leaning against the arm of the couch. Eddie rubbed his face in his hands. It wasn't an odd feeling he had last night and right now- no, he knew what it was and realizing it was going to change everything.

#buddie

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themonkeycabal · 3 years

Text

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, ep 3

Good morning!

Spoilers! of course

Previously on:

The new Captain America is a massive tool, but his buddy, "Battlestar" (lol), is a little bit adorable. They work for something called the Global Repatriation Council, which sounds like a bureaucratic delight and joy.

Bucky got arrested for skipping his therapy appointment to go to Germany (nothing good ever happens to you in Germany, Bucky. Stop going to Germany.) on a mission with Sam (the mission went badly). And once he's sprung from the clink, he and Sam are suckered into the most awkward team therapy session in many an age. Things Are Said and everybody ends up mostly feeling pretty bad about everything.

Speaking of feeling pretty bad about everything — we discover there was a black super soldier in the US Army during the Korean war who was repaid for his service by being imprisoned and made a lab rat for thirty years. Just as awful as it sounds.

Also our pseudo-terrorists from the first episode turn out to be a pack of idealistic kids who grew up in a blipped world and whose goals are probably as murky to them as they are to me. They, however, have pissed off somebody much bigger and badder (probably by stealing super soldier serum).

To find just what in the sam hill was going on with the super soldier serum being out in the wild, Bucky suggested they go talk to that very stable and rational repository of Hydra knowledge, Zemo. I'm sure this will go swimmingly.

I've got my chips and guac and beer, it's 12:30 a.m., and I'm ready for some good ol' fashioned fisticuffs! Bring it, Marvel,

And we open with a sunny, smiley propaganda ad for the Global Repatriation Council. Helping you get back to the way things used to be. Reset. Restore. Rebuild. Cut to a shady black police van with the GRC logo and militarized police hop out along with Captain Massive Tool and the shield that really shouldn't be his. They seem nice.

"Don't give them a second to delete, shred, or breathe," says Captain Biggest Bestest Hero Ever as they prepare to breach a graffiti covered building. Ah, it's the hideout in Munich where Karli and the flag stompers gang were bunked last episode. The owner refuses to give up any info, calls them brutes, spits in Captain Tool's face, and Captain Biggest Bestest Hero Ever roughs him up and yells "Do you know who I am?" The owner replies for us all, "yes, I do, and I don't care."

Captain Tool leaves and grumbles about not having intel on that super dangerous criminal 12-year old, Karli. Battlestar (lol) points out she's giving shelter and meds to displaced people, and so they're loyal. And I'm just going to let that go at this point, because last ep she was on about how the GRC only cared about helping the returning people and not the people who were there all along, and the Flag Smashers wanted to return the world to how it was during the blip. But now suddenly they're all about helping the displaced, who I thought were the ones who were gone, thus, you know, being displaced when they come back to a world that's moved on without them. And I'm letting it go …. now.

Or not. I mean, I guess we could say that they're helping the displaced the GRC doesn't want to help, because they're not politically useful or the GRC is funneling its massive resources somewhere else. Or … something. Like I said, it's all very murky at the moment. I could keep watching and probably discover the answer. And I'm sure the GRC is corrupt as hell, so you go Karli! Though, she's like 16 (okay, maybe early 20s), and I'm not sure how she's managed this level of pull and resources in the few months since the great Un-Blippening and also she's got like a team of 8 (or 7, one died last ep) and she's not exactly oozing charisma. But, never mind. Moving on. For real this time.

That's all my way of saying that 3:48 into this episode and I'm already super done with Captain Massive Tool.

In Berlin, Bucky and Sam are visiting Zemo in prison. How'd they get permission? The guard seems very chill about them being there, he even leaves so Bucky and Sam can go to Zemo's cell alone. Which is so very weird. Are they hoping somebody will shank the weirdo who sits in his cell listening to opera and playing chess all day? "Oh no, he's dead, how sad. Heinrich! Get the mop!"

Anyway, Bucky says he'll go in alone, because Sam's an Avenger and Zemo doesn't really have warm fuzzy feelings for Avengers. Sam, who is currently in possession of the duo's one (1) brain cell, remembers how Zemo literally stalked Bucky and tried to frame him for a bombing and mass murder. "He was obsessed with Hydra. We have a history together," is Bucky's very questionable counter-argument. Well, I mean, technically yes, I guess.

Seriously, they just let him walk right in. Wow.

Zemo steps out of the improbably dark recesses of his cell and immediately starts reciting the Winter Soldier control words. "I just wanted to see how the new you reacts to the old words." By staring. It's his thing.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. It was never personal." I don't know why, but this made me laugh. His delivery is great. It's just like "hey man, good to see you again, hope you got past that whole framing you for murder and the global manhunt thing. Sorry and all. I just really hated your BFF for that time he dropped a city on my family. Bygones, amiright?"

Bucky skips the chat. "Somebody recreated the super soldier serum. I need to find out who." Ah, Zemo is super interested. But, of course. He killed all the other Soldiers, he wouldn't be keen on others around, would he?

Zemo knows where to begin looking for the answer. Cut to Sam and Bucky walking around in a dark room full of some sort of vague equipment (ah, it's a garage), Sam regretting every life decision he's ever made that led him to this point "what are you talking about you want to break Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we? Buck, have you lost your mind?" Stupidity, who knows, and yes.

"Zemo's going to mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense." "Offense." lol idiots.

Bucky finds the lights. They argue some more about Zemo. "Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code." Sam's like, yeah, I saw his code, it was blow shit up and kill a lot of people. Sam cannot believe he is hearing this crap right now and he's got to be like "steve rogers, if you weren't 106 I would beat your ass for leaving me with this moron".

"Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?" Sam, feeling those cold, tingly chills, the slowly creeping horror of realization, "What did you do?" "I didn't do anything," Bucky lies like the terrible liar he is. Wow he's a bad liar.

Cut back to Zemo's prison cell. Zemo ticks another off the "creepy euro villain" checklist, when Bucky randomly asks what he's reading and Zemo says Machiavelli. But of course. He's hiding something in his book. A key card.

Meanwhile, in the garage Bucky is explaining things to Sam. "The weakest point of any system isn't the software, or the hardware, it's the meatware." lol elegantly put, Bucky. "The human element."

Anyway, to sum up, Bucky's already broken Zemo out of prison. Poor Sam, the look on his face as Bucky hypotheticals through all the steps of the breakout, I laughed so hard.

Sam: “i hate everything, especially this asshole”

"And where are we?" Sam asks, very fed up with Things.

The door opens and here comes Zemo in his purloined guard's uniform.

"You're going back to prison!" "We need him, Sam." Zemo, politely, "If I may—" "NO!" "NO!"

Argue argue argue. Bucky makes a weird pitch about how Steve didn't sign the Sokovia Accords and neither did Sam and, they went all illegal and on the run, they did it for him and so he's asking Sam to do that again. I mean, Sam's still slightly cheesed about that, Bucky. But, it seems to work, and Sam agrees with A Great Deal Of Reluctance.

Zemo's just standing there all quiet and well-mannered as they go through this, like he's their little pet whackjob.

The garage is full of classic cars belonging to Zemo and they're full of weapons and other goodies. He says he spent years tracking down all the Hydra people who might know how to make the serum, because if it's out there, then somebody could create an army of people like the Avengers. He's taking clothes out of one of the cars and finds a purple ski mask, which he stealthily slips into a bag. Nobody cares about your weird purple mask, Zemo, I've thought that thing was dumb for 30 years.

"To do this, we'll have to scale a ladder of low-lifes." heh

Next they go to an airfield. In Germany. You guys, come on.

Anyway, Zemo owns a plane, he's rich, his family was royalty, he's a baron. Sam's like 'wtf?' Bucky just rolls with everything. Or he does until they're on the plane later and Zemo has somehow lifted Bucky's book of amends and decides to read through it. "Who is Nakajima?" And Bucky's got him by the throat.

Sam's all hey that's Steve's book. "I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?" "I like 40s music, so…" "You didn't like it?!?!?!?!" "I liked it." Zemo chimes in, "It is a masterpiece, James. Complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience." lol wtf

"Everybody loves Marvin Gaye," Sam is so offended. "I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky says, probably trying to remember 'who is Marvin Gaye?' "Steve *adored* Marivn Gaye," Sam insists. lol. I like Marvin Gaye, Sam.

Zemo starts going off about Steve, and how the danger with those heroes and super soldiers is they're put on a pedestal and we forget about their flaws. And while he's not wrong, he also clearly wants Sam to throw him out of that airplane.

"Do we want to live in a world with people like the Red Skull? No. That is why we're going to Madripoor." Ahh Madripoor, I haven't thought about that place in a long, long time. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, iirc. Ah, yes, Zemo and Bucky confirm.

Zemo says they can't go as themselves and Bucky's going to have to "become someone you claim is gone". Bucky looks Deeply Unhappy.

On to a GRC resettlement camp in Latvia. Karli is playing soccer with some young kids. Because of the good-natured idealism. She's summoned to a hospital bed, in a ward stuffed with beds in an old, fancy building that's seen better days. Somebody is dying and she's crying at their bedside. Her mom maybe?

Back to Madripoor. It's a glittering city of colorfully-lit skyscrapers. The trio are walking across a bridge to give us a picturesque view and exposit about what they'll be doing. Sam is wearing a very questionable suit with like a black and red floral pattern and yellow-green circles. Or something. I can't tell what's going on with that thing. He says he looks like a pimp. Well no, but it is a terrible suit. Zemo calls it fashion forward, but Zemo wears a great coat with a fur collar and a purple ski mask. Don't take fashion tips from Zemo.

He says Sam will play a "sophisticated, charming, African rake, named Conrad Mack. Aka the Smiling Tiger." Sam is still not thrilled, "even has a bad nickname." Though, yes, the original dude does dress that poorly and he looks like Sam, so suck it up, Sam.

Fortunately they don't have to walk all the way across the bridge (it is a long ass bridge), they're met by a car about halfway and Zemo says they have to super duper stay in character no matter what happens.

The car is surrounded by elaborately decorated motorcycles ridden by very armed people. Hell of a welcome wagon. They're escorted to a graffitied, crumbling underpass, presumably the entrance to Low Town. It's part Macao, part Kowloon, part Jakarta, crammed full of neon and people and ramshackle buildings piled together in a maze of narrow streets, rails, and weird building-to-building bridges. Good set design.

Everybody is "fashion forward" and very heavily armed. They pass a wall with the words "Power Broker Is Watching". That's the charming fellow Karli and her do-gooders stole from.

They enter a bar decorated with golden baboon skulls and koi fish. Zemo asks "are you ready to comply, Winter Soldier?" he's attracted attention from unsavory sorts. I mean, more unsavory than the already unsavory sorts who fill the bar. The bartender is surprised to see Zemo and the Smiling Tiger. Zemo asks for Selby.

Somebody at a nearby table pulls a hood over her head, and by somebody I mean Sharon Carter. NOT SUBTLE SHARON!

Bartender asks the Smiling Tiger if he wants the usual and Sam silently nods. The bartender seems suspicious, but he takes a pickled snake out of a jar, cuts something out of it, drops it in a glass and places it in front of Sam who's like 'what in the actual I am going to puke'. lol Sam bravely tosses it back and does not puke no matter how much he really wants to and he really wants to. Bucky's being the Winter Soldier and is not at all laughing in his head about this.

A power broker minion comes over and tells Zemo he's not welcome there. Zemo says if PB wants him to leave, he can talk to him himself or bring Selby. The minion looks at Bucky and asks if he got a new haircut. Bucky gives him pure murder face. So the Power Broker and his minions know the Winter Soldier, so they were Hydra? Or, I guess, they all ran in the same shady circles.

Anyway, PUNCHING AT LAST! Power Broker minions approach to remove Zemo and Zemo tells the Winter Soldier to attack. Bucky is not pleased, but I am, because now there's punching. It's just been the sort of week that needs punching to improve it. Bar brawl! It's a lopsided fight, Bucky's wiping the floor with these dudes and the suspicious bartender is moving away to make a call.

"It didn't take much for him to fall back into form," Zemo tells Sam. Shut your pie hole, Zemo. Aw, now the guns come out and the fight's over. Zemo calls off the Winter Soldier and the bartender tells them Selby will see them.

Selby is lounging in her backroom, listening to 50s french pop, and hanging out with lizards and piles of cash. As you do. She'd like to know why Zemo is there and by the way wasn't he in prison? She makes a weird purring sound at Sam. lol. I like her. The actress looks familiar but I can't place her. Anyway.

Zemo says if she tells them what she knows about the super soldier serum, he'll give her the Winter Soldier and his control words. Then Zemo weirdly fondles Bucky's face and like rubs at the cleft in his chin. lol. fucking weirdo.

Selby is charmed. She says she's glad she didn't kill him straight away. Weirdos of a feather, I suppose. Anyway, she says the serum is in Madripoor and developed by Dr. Wilfred Nagel. He was working for the PB. She won't give up Nagel's location for free, though. …and Sam's phone rings. Pro tip, Sam: turn off your phone when you go into meetings with deeply shady crime bosses.

Everybody stops and stares at him and he just sort of lets it ring. It's his sister. Dude, just turn it off. Too late. Selby wants him to answer it on speaker. Okay, well, she'll kill you either way, so just refuse the call and get ready for punching and running. So, he answers it.

Sarah says she needs to talk to him about the situation and he wants her to say exactly what situation. So, she says the one with the boat, dummy, and are you high? So he's going to play this off as a Doing Crime phone call. And it kind of works until Sarah calls him Sam. Selby's like wtf kill them and then she gets shot in the chest by … I don't know who? somebody from the outside. Now this trio of geniuses is going to get blamed for it. Immediately a bounty for them goes out to like everybody in Low Town. lol. That went well, guys.

And the shooting starts, they run. Except not so great for Sam who we just discovered is wearing heels. "I can't run in these heels!"

Here come the bikers. And they get picked off by somebody in a nearby warehouse. Oh, is that Sharon? Yep. And she's salty .When asked what she's doing there, "I stole Steve's shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so you (sam) could save his ass (bucky) from his ass (zemo)." lol. She didn't have any backup so she's off the grid in Madripoor. Did nobody think to clear her after everybody was all heroic and then pardoned after the Un-Snappening? Come on, guys.

She's better than they deserve and despite being bitter, she says she's got a place in High Town they can hide.

Sharon runs a gallery selling stolen masterpieces and other hot craft goodies. The creators of this show bless us with a long shirtless Sam scene as he changes out of this Smiling Tiger duds and apologizes to Sharon. She says she'd be arrested if she went back to the States and Madripoor doesn't allow extradition. Besides, she muses, heroing is hypocritical bullshit. Right Sam, since you gave up the shield and all. And Sam's all "bwhu?"

Then she turns her bitter on Bucky and asks how the new Cap is and Bucky's like "i hate him the most" and she's all 'come on', she knows he buys into all that heroic bullshit, "before you were his (zemo) pet psychopath you were Mr America, Cap's best friend." Well, no before that he was the Winter Soldier long before Zemo.

"Wow, she's kind of awful now," Bucky tells Sam. lol. You really get a sense of how much Bucky lucked out with his goat farm. Thanks Wakanda!

Sam gets them back to the point and wants to know where Nagel is, though Sharon says they should stay out of it to be safe. Sam presses, he says he can help clear Sharon's name and she's like 'wow, bargaining with my life?' but he gives her a Cap-worth speech about trying. "They cleared the bionic staring machine and he's killed almost everybody he's met." "I heard that," Bucky says from ten feet away. "I don't trust charity." You just tried to guilt him about bargaining with your life, Sharon!

Anyway, they strike a deal.

Zemo's being suspiciously quiet.

Then they go to a rave. Madripoor is party central. Sharon's gallery is hosting a party for clients and whatnot. She'll see what she can find. For some reason she invites the boys to join her at the party because hiding from the bounty on them and probably also from the Power Broker means walking into parties packed full of the sort of people who buy expensive stolen goods in Madripoor, like say, the Power Broker or his wealthier minions.

Zemo's just happy to be out of prison. The shot of him dancing. lol.

Sharon finds a lead on Nagel and the next day this quartet of galaxy brains heads to the docks. Nothing bad ever happens when you go look for scientists at the docks. No sir. And he is apparently hanging out in a shipping container. Sharon's like hurry up you've got a bounty on your heads and I'm sick of you three already.

The container is empty, but Sharon insists it's the right one. Zemo goes in and finds the false back which leads to a set of stairs going up. "Comin' Home Baby" is playing in the distance. I know I always listen to Mel Torme when I'm tinkering on gene-altering serums in my secret shipping container lab.

They find Dr. Nagel, who is not keen on chatting but he's willing to maybe listen to offers. He's definitely the mad scientist type.

Sharon, keeping watch outside, spots trouble. Some bad guys heading towards the container. She attacks! Moar punchies! Or beating the shit out of people with a baton. It's eleventy zillion bounty hunters. How did they find them? Did that Very Wanted Trio maybe go to a very popular party the night before, or something?

Bucky attempts to persuade Nagel with his gun. Nagel says he was brought in to Hydra to work on the Winter Soldier program. Then he was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples of a subject (Isaiah? the black super soldier from last ep), and he was able to recreate the serum off of that. "I was a god! I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do."

Zemo is pacing around like a very, very angry psycho about to shoot the mad scientist. Guys, maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring Zemo to the person who could create the super soldier serum, given that is the opposite of what he wants. Kill Nagel, no more super soldiers. This is gonna end bloody. Zemo seems to have found a gun hidden in the lab. Yep.

"How have we never heard about this?" Sam asks. Well Sam, it turns out Nagel was blipped. Thanks, Thanos! Anyway, when he came back the CIA project was abandoned but the Power Broker was happy to help fund him. He made 20 vials and Karli stole those. And then Karli being a super duper genius, called him a few days earlier and asked if he could help somebody dying of tuberculosis. Karli … don't call the bad guys and ask for help after you stole from them. That's like day one stuff, kiddo.

Meanwhile, Sharon is still fighting every bounty hunter in Madripoor. She's killed like twenty guys.

Sharon runs in "guys we're seriously out of time" and Zemo takes the distraction to shoot Nagel. Who didn't see that coming? Oh yeah, Sam and Bucky and Sharon. Nobody was using the one (1) brain cell today. Or Zemo was. That's what you get for loaning it to the lunatic.

And then somebody fires a freaking rocket at the shipping container lab. Man. But, can you collect a bounty if all that's left are unidentifiable, charred corpses? Nobody in Madripoor is using the brain cell today.

Now they're trapped in a burning lab that's full of probably very bad explosive chemicals and o2 tanks. And yep, it partially blows up. Zemo gets away. Or seems to have, anyway. It's a gun battle now and also arguing. lol. Sharon's like "FOR REAL YOU IDIOTS?"

Oh, here comes Zemo, stomping along the top of a shipping container, carrying his purple ski mask. He fires at a gas line, the explosion distracting the bounty hunters and giving the trio time to run. Zemo beats up some bounty hunters and then finds a convertible muscle car in a container and swings by to pick up the others. Sam is very grumpy "you're going back to jail". lol.

Sharon's like 'okay, buh-bye!', she's had enough. Aww, is she really only in one episode? Well, Sam does promise to try and get her that pardon, so …

Anyway, Bucky calls shotgun and refuses to move the seat up for Sam. Payback is sweet. Heh.

Oh, not done with Sharon yet. She meets a minion and says they've got a couple of big problems.

Lithuania. Karli and one of her pals are stalking a GRC depot. Karli's sad. Her buddy says she should take some time to mourn. But, no, she's got do-gooding to do. They chat for a bit about what they'd be doing if they weren't do-goodering. She'd be a teacher or some such. They were all in Madripoor, washed up there during the blip, put then put out when everybody returned. Hmm. Lots of expositioning. Blah blah, scary taking the serum. "But it was worth it, because this world is ours." And they're going to give it to the kids in the displacement camps. … alrighty then.

Anyway, she's convinced that now that Nagel is dead, the Power Broker will come to her begging for the rest of the serum. No, sweety, I really don't think a person like that begs. Yikes.

"So we've got the one fight ahead of us then? I'll take those odds," says her very dim buddy.

In the prison in Berlin, Captain Massive Tool is talking to the guards about how Sam and Bucky where there when Zemo escaped and the guard's all "you … you don't think they had something to do with him getting out…." World class security. I find it really grating that Captain Tool calls Sam and Bucky by their first names. It's just so weirdly familiar that it almost crosses into dismissive. Completely unearned familiarity.

Lemar says they can't just accuse Sam and Bucky without evidence, but Captain Tool seems to think they can just, you know, make it up or some shit. "If we get the job done, do you think they're going to sweat us on the how?" Fuck you, Captain Tool.

Back in Zemo's plane, Bucky's fastidiously cleaning his metal arm, like a big grumpy cat. And Sam is trying to get a lead on the person (Madani) Nagel told him Karli wanted to help. He's got Torres on it.

They get to talking about the shield and how many people died or got messed up because of it/the serum. Sam says he made a mistake giving it up and he should have destroyed it. Bucky says, "Look that shield represents a lot of things to a lot of people, including me. The world is upside down, we need a new Cap, and it ain't gonna be Walker [preach]. So before you destroy it, I'll take it from him myself." Kick his ass, Bucky!

Torres gets back to Sam just as Zemo brings them lunch. Such a good host. "They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea." … was that last bit really necessary? Like Riga is such a mystery? Even if you don't know where it is, like, that's so weirdly clunky. Somehow I think if you don't know Riga, you probably don't have the Baltic in the map in your head, either. 'Have you ever been to London? A city on the River Thames.' 'I've always wanted to go to Los Angeles, a city near the Pacific Ocean.'

Bucky should have said "oh yeah, i love Riga. I killed a diplomat there back in '64. Great beer."

Zemo's got a place they can go and he's looking forward "to coming face to face with Karli." Not creepy at all, Zemo. Nope.

Meanwhile, the kids are raiding the GRC depot and chatting way too much and calling each other by name. Oh dear.

"Filthy Flag Smashers" grumps a soldier tied up on the floor. I can't take them at all seriously with a name like that. Karli says they had six months of supplies just sitting there. "Don't you understand, we're fighting for our lives." Are you? Why and in what way?

Okay, so this is my continuing issue here. They're trying to build up this un-Blipped world, which is great, but they're doing it through So Much Exposition and so much of it is vague. We're supposed to think the GRC are probably shady, but are they? I don't know. Could be. They're sitting on these supplies! Evil! Maybe they are, but why? Why stockpile all that? Is it being sold on a black market? Or diverted to other people? Who knows! I don't. You don't.

We're supposed to sympathize with the Flag Munchers, but they're so vague in their goals. They want the world back how it was during the Blip. Okay. How was it? I don't know. What was so great about it? What we saw in Endgame didn't look all that great. But, we saw it from a different point of view, to be sure. So, what was it like for the average person who survived? Hell if I know. Also the Munchers want to help the people in the displacement camps. Okay. So do those two goals go together? I don't know. Are all the displacement camps bad? We're meant to think so, but I don't know. Is it just some of them? Is it regional? Who, exactly, are the displaced? It seems to be a mix of those who were blipped and those who weren't. I guess. I don't know.

It's just all taken out of the Big Book Of Cliched Assumptions for Lazy Worldbuilding. Why actually do the hard work of details, when they can just fall back on tropes, make vague pronouncements about how 'bad' things are, and let us assume the answers. This might bother me less if we didn't have to spend so much time with Captain Tool and the Flag Munchers. I cannot tell you how much I currently don't care. I find this all very frustrating. I don't mean to spoil the fun. Let me look at Sam's face again:

That was better. But, I stopped too soon. We're still with the Munchers.

They're leaving the building they just looted, and there’s a bit of business I don’t care about, involving Karli’s car and how she’s not taking it, she’s going to just leave it parked, completely unsuspiciously in front of the building. And, she’s going to ride with her pal Mr. Dimbulb.

She tells him to put his seatbelt on and she's very insistent. And then her car blows up and the building catches fire and it’s very dramatic.

Her buddy's like wtf there were people in there and Karli says, "This is the only language these people understand." ARGH. Who people? Why is bombing them the only language they understand? Like, in this show, the GRC have literally DONE NOTHING. Nothing we’ve seen and nothing we’ve heard. At least have people chat about dark and dire rumors or something. Hell, they haven’t even been accused of doing anything other than ‘caring more about the people who returned than the ones who never left’ which is literally their job. sighing all night long. Maybe they’re horrible and evil and the Worst Thing Ever. But I DON’T KNOW THAT, because nothing in the show has bothered to establish that.

ANYWAY

Riga, a city on the Baltic Sea

The trio are walking down the street, Zemo expositing for us again. Sokovia was apparently swallowed by neighboring countries, erased from the map. "I don't suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial? Of course not. Why would you?"

Bucky's looking not happy. Probably remembering '64. They get to Zemo's place and Bucky says he's going to go on a walk. Zemo and Sam go on ahead and Bucky watches until they're out of sight and he circles back and finds a beeping thingy on the ground. He notices something across the street. Ah another round beepy thing. Now he's collecting them. He steps into an alley and says, "You dropped something". Nobody immediately appears.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." And he turns around and it's one of the Dora Milaje. She looks unhappy and she’d like to know where Zemo is. Yeah, the Wakandans are not just gonna let Zemo wander free. That's a sticky situation you got yourself in, White Wolf.

Credits.

Well, I really enjoyed the bits that didn't contain the Flag Munchers or Captain Tool. Do better with your world-building, people.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #tfatws liveblog #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #long post #sorry this got away from me

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obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

Forever and Always

Story-wise, I’m stuck near the beginning of lesson 21 :(. So I’m taking a break from leveling up cards and everything to pop out a few of those ideas! The weekends are really the only time I have to do this, so it slows me down a bit.

Hope you enjoy! This time: some angst.

Lucifer’s part may be a little triggering because the reader’s been semi-sedated. I’ll basically put the warning out that these are all near-death scenarios. I have no idea what could trigger people so I can’t really tell anyone what to look out for.

P.S: I’m totally down for writing Barbatos and Diavolo but I don’t really know anything about their personalities. If any of you have made it farther into the game or have uncovered things and would like to share them, please let me know!

P.S.S: I headcanon that Mammon has a messed up or mostly broken wing. I’m very suspicious that NONE of the bros had any wing damage from when they fell. Yeah, Lucifer ripped off two of his wings but SOMEONE had to end up with broken wings. I picked Mammon.

These got super long (as always) so I’m working on part 2 with the rest of the bros right now.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It’s rare anyone gets a text from Barbatos (unless it’s on Diavolo’s behalf), and even rarer when it’s just instructions. A date, a time, and a place.

And a warning.

If you’re late, they die.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Lucifer

He couldn’t believe it when he read it.

Lucifer had been on edge about it. The message was enough to break him, a warm-blooded demon, out in a cold sweat

The text message had woken him up in the wee hours of the very morning you were to die

Judging by the stars outside his window and the silence in the house, he was the first up

The eldest crept along the hallways to check on all of you--starting with Mammon, Beel, and Satan, and ending with you.

His gut twisted guiltily as he confirmed Satan was fast asleep in a nest of books, slowly unwinding from the chair and slipping into the floor. It pained him to think Satan, something of his creation, would be his first guess. The main worry.

If not Satan, than who?

The question haunted Lucifer into the early morning, the exhausted demon mulling the question over a cup of coffee.

He had breakfast delivered to the house, far too concerned to cook.

It wasn’t until you decided to portion off your treat to give some to that blossoming love of yours that it hit him like a Celestial Blade

That DEMON! Lucifer stood so abruptly he nearly snapped the handle off his mug, chair shooting back with a groan.

He could hear little splinters under his feet, brain barely processing that everyone was looking at him with concern. Suspicion.

“I’ve dawdled too long. I must get ready.” he excused himself.

Lucifer disappeared to his room, collecting everything for RAD.

Everything circled back to his D.D.D. He checked his pocket two, three, four times before he was convinced it’d stay with him while he went to the academy

Everything from then on was a countdown to the time in the text message.

The message wasn’t clear if you’d be dead at that time, or if he should arrive at that time. It was the farthest thing from his mind, Lucifer kicking the classroom door open so hard that it snapped off the hinges and tumbled awkwardly into the room

The room was hardly used but had recently been cleaned. With a slice of the gardens in the window, it would have been a darling picnic spot. If it were being used for a picnic, that is.

What he stumbled into was most certainly NOT a picnic. Far from it.

He recognized your lover, the cretin, but not the other three who’d crashed this little picnic. But there they were, studying books and hissing amongst themselves as they plotted out which pieces of you to take for themselves.

Humans were the rarest of delicacies among all the delicacies, after all.

Lucifer hadn’t yet unleashed his demon form and it was the arrogance of young demons that led the four to stand as if to challenge him.

“I am no longer an angel,” Lucifer removed his gloves as he glared at them sternly. His rage, the pride of being your protector, was getting the best of him. His fangs were growing, grinding against his words and making them pointed. “But you will beg for my mercy.”

Then he flew at them with all the rage he thought he’d given to Satan. Three of them had jumped on him; he could feel them trying to bite at him and scratching his skin with their claws.

There were hazy memories of snapping, tearing, biting, and all manner of chaos. The only clear thing he remembered was the perfect stillness in the room, the tang of blood, and scooping your drugged body up as gently as he could.

“Those vile creatures,” his soft, naked hands shook against your head as he fixed your hair and picked gore from your face. You were still awake, and could still look at him. Just enough light in your eyes to process things. To endure the agony of what would have been.

All of this would’ve been avoided if he could’ve just told you first. But his pride was too great. And he was the bearer of his sin.

“You are safe, beloved.” Lucifer walked quietly from the destroyed room, shoes squelching into the hallway as he took you to the infirmary.

Mammon

He treated the text like a prized secret.

Reading it was enough to give him an anxiety attack, honestly

He’d texted Barbatos back but the butler said he could give nothing else. ‘The text must be followed’ was all he would say.

Mammon is suspicious and observant by nature. For a brief moment he considered that Diavolo was playing a prank on him and had simply stolen Barbatos’ D.D.D., maybe even put him up to it

But the prince of the Devildom wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the human transfer. Quite the opposite.

He went to go see Barbatos in person to try and squeeze some extra details out of the attendant, but was met with a stern face and narrowed eyes. Though Barbatos’ face was basically unreadable, Mammon could tell he thought about putting that silver serving platter upside his head (maybe even putting him in the stock pot)

“The text must be followed,” the butler insisted, brushing past him to reach for some spices.

Whatever it was, it was happening at Majolish

Mammon was getting ready for a shoot and his brain was frazzled.

He’d been irritated and jumpy all day.

What was he supposed to look for when he didn’t know what he was looking for?!

How is he supposed to protect you when he doesn’t know what will kill you?

Mammon sets an alarm on his D.D.D for when you’re supposed to meet your fate, and doing so almost makes him sick. He puts on a watch for extra measure.

Mammon’s in the middle of figuring out how to get you to Majolish when he hears Asmo trying to butter you into going shopping. It’s either an ‘I didn’t get picked’ pity trip or he just wants to steal you for himself

It makes Mammon think of something: do you die trying to go see him at Majolish? Do you originally go with Asmo and convince him to watch his shoot?

“Go ask Solomon,” Mammon throws his arm around your shoulder as he stares Asmo down (even though they’re the same height). “They’re busy.”

He tunes out of the usual banter, the standard names, and just gives you a gentle squeeze to start walking in time with him. Mammon ruffles Asmo’s hair for good measure, sure his little brother will spend precious time fixing it. That will give him enough of a lead to get you to Majolish.

Shoots can be laborious, Mammon is well-aware. There’s time in hair, makeup, wardrobe being painstakingly selected, and then it comes down to posing.

There’s re-shoots, different angles, all sorts of things.

He’s starting to wonder what the HELL the danger is or if Barbatos saw the wrong time. Nothing’s happened, you’re fine!

Mammon has trouble relaxing in the shoot because they keep moving you around to avoid shadows. Just keeping you out of the way, off to the side.

His hyper-fixation is starting to burn out. He checks his watch in-between pictures, ignoring all the help as the scuttle around to change lighting and reposition things.

It’s about five minutes until the accident. Mammon clutches his D.D.D. so hard it almost cracks.

He strong-arms the photographer into some couple pictures (’For the human. It’d probably help the issue sell better, anyways!”) when it finally happened.

No one hears it, of that he’s sure. HE didn’t even hear it. Mammon saw it before he heard it, the odd flicker of light. Mammon’s demon form takes over as he surges forward, blowing the photographer onto his back as he shoots overhead.

There was a huge set light plummeting towards your delicate little human head. A demon-made, Devildom brand set light that would surely turn you into a pancake.

He scoops you up and crushes you to his chest, veering around as best he can with his good wing.

The light whizzes past you both, scraping the thin skin of both wings. He stars the choppy descent down as the light crashed to the floor in a blaze of sparks and glittering glass.

“Dammit, human....” Mammon breathes into your hair, petting your head as his feet finally touch the ground again. His arm lingers around your waist a little longer than it should, but he doesn’t care.

The shoot ends there, everyone needing to clean up the mess. And your main man is now busy taking care of you, so he’s done for the day.

Mammon gets a preview issue almost a week later and is stunned to find a shot good enough for an action movie on the cover. It’s him holding you against him, barely in the air, framed by the sparks of that crashed light. A kiss would’ve made that shot worth a million bucks, is all he can think as he rolls himself out of bed to go brag about the cover.

Levi

Levi takes the text with absolute seriousness because Barbatos has never reached out to him. Ever.

Their relationship was a strained one, his and Barbatos’. Upon hearing of his ability to look into the future, Levi tried (and failed) multiple times to nicely/subtly ask for winning numbers on various raffles and ‘take a guess!’ premium giveaways.

He envied the butler for having such a cool power and hated that he was so stingy with it. But he was also afraid of being perceived as an annoying otaku and didn’t want to be whispered about as the ‘weird’ brother, so he took to avoiding him like the plague.

When he gets the text, he immediately hunts down the place where you’re to die.

The Devildom gets traveling acts every now and then. Rarely is there one that makes Levi want to come out of his room. He’s so stoked at the idea of a pop-up aquarium that he forgets he’s supposed to be investigating it and figuring out what could go wrong.

He’s familiar with all manner of sea creatures but these people have collected for centuries and there’s varieties he’s never seen!

Admittedly, he failed the objective of scoping out the place. Levi decided it was cool and would definitely come back to check it out some more.

He goes back a second time to see if he can connect with any of these creatures. There’s a link but it’s all vague. Some have nothing to show, others feel aggression, and some are waiting to be fed, and some have accepted this as their life.

It leaves him with mixed feelings, as does meeting the owners and curators. Levi gets the impression that these people don’t know how to care for these creatures, or have been doing the bare minimum for centuries.

He goes home, wondering how hard Diavolo looked into this traveling show. What if it was actually a ring con-men with stolen animals pretending to be a traveling aquarium?

Levi’s not surprised to hear Lucifer encourage the group to go see the aquarium on the day you’re supposed to die. Levi shyly tags along and intends to stay close by. He’s convinced he knows the best route through the aquarium

He’d prefer to take you on a tour by himself but doesn’t know if he has the guts.

It takes almost an hour to work through the whole aquarium, what with the groups and everything, and Levi is starting to feel socially taxed and mildly people claustrophobic.

Unexpectedly, the owner rushes everyone into a room he’d never seen. It’s a small arena speckled with chairs all facing a floating stage. Levi wants to write it off as a last-minute cash grab but can’t bring himself to say anything.

It’s almost like a weird carnival game. Pay a couple of Grimm, get a handful of feed, and see if the shadow below pops up to feast. You’re swept up into the feeding like--by Asmo? By accident? WHY. HUMAN, WHY?--and Levi knows THIS is where it happens.

He rushes onto the bobbing stage as you start tossing feed like the owner shows you, attempting to grab you around the waist and get you to FLAT, NORMAL, NICE, LAND

The creature bumps the stage and it bumps HARD. To a human it would be a small earthquake. Or like that nature documentary he and Satan watched about the killer whales knocking stuff off of icebergs.

Levi barely finishes going into his demon form when you hit the water. You’re tangled in his tail (that’s on purpose) and Levi’s trying to figure out WHERE THE HELL THE TEETH ARE.

The stage hasn’t settled enough to grab and all he can do is shoot through the water to throw the two of you onto land.

It has tendrils; he can feel them trying to figure out what he is and how to grab him. Levi wants to bite it as a defense mechanism but doesn’t know what drawing blood will do.

Your air is precious and running out. He coils and weaves himself together so you’re near his face. Levi breathes air into your mouth as the water churns and moves the two of you around.

His head breaches the surface and he does something he’s always threatened to do and probably hasn’t done in thousands of years: summons Lotan.

The creature comes when called, plopping down in the arena and generating a colossal wave that heaves the two of you onto dry land.

Everyone is understandably panicked. His brothers are dragging him away into a corner as visitors flee the room.

The owner is missing, the stage is in shambles, and the room is starting to fall apart. Lotan emerges victorious, as Levi knew he would, and eight people sit in the ruins to let the moment pass as everything falls into silence.

You plunk your head gratefully onto his chest, the two of you quite waterlogged, and Levi just pats you with a wet tail as Lotan leans its seven heads down to investigate what’s become of their master.

#obey me!#obey me! x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Levi x Reader

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need-a-fugue · 4 years

Text

Centennial Man

Summary: Bucky may not want to celebrate his birthday, but you’ll be damned if you let his 100th go by as just another day.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cavity-inducing fluff.

You’re gone when he wakes, that side of the bed cold and empty.

He twists around, fingers idly gripping the crumpled sheets where your body should be, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he blinks the room into focus. It’s dim but not dark, a sliver of early morning light spilling in through the crack in the curtains, still drawn – unlike how he leaves them when he gets out of bed in the morning, tearing them open to bathe you in the offending light, forcing you to writhe and moan and finally get up.

But today… you’re already up.

He slowly turns back around, rubbing his stubbled face into the million thread count sheets you insisted on buying a few months back – new sheets for a new home! – before landing his eyes on the bedside clock. His brows pull tightly together, confusion tugging his frown even further. Nine o’clock? He lets out a groan and rolls onto his back, a knowing, “Damnit,” flowing languidly out of him as he rubs at his eyes.

You turned off the alarm. Of course you did. You turned off the alarm to keep him in bed and then you disappeared to go do… something. Even though he told you – repeatedly – to treat this just like any other damn day.

He hears the front door open, the crinkle of a paper sack, a sharp, “Ooop,” in your voice to likely mark a near trip or spill. And he pulls himself up and out of bed.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stepping out into the hallway, tugging a T-shirt over his head, not even bothering to do up the jeans he pulls on. He peers into the kitchen, parking it at the breakfast bar to watch as you merrily pluck item after item out of a large paper bag.

“I went to our corner bakery,” you state, not even turning to look at him, so intent on unpacking the goodies. “I got croissants,” you spin then, just long enough to offer a quick raised brow, “obviously,” and turn back to the counter. “A blueberry muffin. A lemon poppyseed. A bran muffin,” you intone slyly, whipping back around to face him. “Because old men like you need their fiber.”

“Ha, ha,” he spouts, grumpy frown still painted on his face.

You reach behind and grab a single plate from the counter, pluck a paper coffee cup with the other hand, and step over to the breakfast bar. “And,” you announce with a flair, setting the plate down in front of him, “pain au chocolate. Because it’s my baby’s birthday. And he deserves it.” You wiggle your brows playfully, getting met with little more than a dramatic eyeroll from Bucky.

He points to your other hand. “That coffee for me?”

“Of course,” you state, setting it down in front of him before rocking back on your heels, crossing your arms over your chest, and offering an almost chiding glare. “Black. Plain. Boring. Just like you.”

He plucks the plastic top, tosses it to the side. “I told you… I don’t do birthdays.”

“You did my birthday,” you say with a shrug.

“Yeah,” he says after downing a long, hot sip. “You would’ve thrown me out if I hadn’t.”

Your face twists with admonishment. “No,” you intone, narrowing your eyes severely. “You just like being the gift giver, the one who celebrates other people. The hero.”

“Making you dinner for your birthday makes me a hero?” he asks, lips finally quirking into a small, crooked smile, a hint of mirth twinkling in his eyes as you roll yours in annoyance. He plucks a pain au chocolate from the plate, takes a giant bite, devouring almost half the pastry at once. “This is it, right?” comes out of him amid buttery crumbs as he speaks around the food in his mouth. “No party… no nothing, right?”

Another eyeroll, this one so deep it almost hurts. “Really, I should just count my gift to you as talking Tony out of that damn party.”

He swallows thickly, takes another quick sip of coffee to wash down the pastry. “I don’t get it. He hates me. Why would he want to throw me a party anyway? Unless it’s because he hates me… and he knows I’d hate it.”

“First of all,” you mutter spinning back around to grab your own coffee off the counter, “He doesn’t hate you.” You shrug. “He just doesn’t like you. And yeah, you being annoyed by even just the thought of a birthday gathering probably gives him a monstrous hard on.”

“Could do without that image,” he mutters before shoving the rest of the croissant into his mouth.

“But really, that man will take any opportunity to throw a party. Don’t make this all about you.”

“My birthday,” he states simply. “Not about me. Got it.”

You sweep out of the kitchen, rounding the breakfast bar to pull up next to him. “Nat’s covering for you this morning – ”

“You could’ve just said that instead of turning off my alarm,” he interjects, a bit of an edge to his voice.

You give him a get real stare. “You still would’ve gotten up by six… still would’ve gone down to the gym. It’s your birthday, you can sleep in one damn day a year.”

“Mm-hmm,” he mutters, reaching out for the remaining chocolate pastry.

“Anyway,” you intone, swiftly plucking the treat from him and tearing it in half, returning only a portion to his waiting, open hand. “As I was saying… Natasha’s covering for you, so no work today. Steve wants to hang out, so I said I’d send you his way for a bit. But I need you back here by six.”

“Why?” he asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Because it would be rude to keep the mariachi band waiting,” you snipe. “Why do you think? We’re having dinner.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re staying in.”

His eyes widen, brow arching into an utterly incredulous expression. “Don’t take this the wrong way, doll, but I don’t want you to cook either. I might not want to celebrate my birthday, but that doesn’t mean I want to get food poisoning for it.”

“I’m not going to…” You let out a low, annoyed growl. “You’re the worst. Just go… do whatever you want to do for a few hours.”

He reaches out and captures you with his metal arm as you try to scurry off beyond him, back to the bedroom. “What if what I want to do is right here?”

You swat him away, aiming a pointed finger as you take a single, wide step back. “No,” you declare, trying – and failing – to keep your lips from curing into a devilish smile. “Not now. Not yet.”

He turns back to the breakfast bar with a grunt. A scoff. A bitter huff. “I gave you two orgasms before the sun even came up on your birthday.”

“Psht,” you scoff. “I was barely awake. Probably dream faking.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. I rocked your world.”

Your eyes roll back so hard that this time it definitely does physically hurt. “You are such an old man.”

000

“You should have a little more faith in her,” Steve says with a chuckle as he swipes at his hair in the locker room mirror, pinching a chunk between his fingers and twisting.

Bucky snorts in reply, rolling his eyes at his friend’s – frankly alarming – love affair with 21st century hair products as he does little more than viciously rub a towel through his own just washed hair. A two-hour run. Some light sparring followed by heavy lifting. A long ass shower. And he’s finally ready to face whatever you have cooked up for him. Mostly.

“You’re acting like she’s gonna throw you a surprise party,” the still-preening super soldier says, barking out a quick laugh when Bucky turns on him with a raised, wary brow. “She’s not going to do something we all know you’d hate.”

“I hate celebrating my birthday,” he mutters vaguely as he tosses the towel into a hamper by the door and roughly pulls on a sweatshirt.

“You didn’t used to,” Steve says, finally turning away from the mirror and locking onto Bucky’s eyes with a rather gloomy cast. “Hell, you used to drag me around to every soda shop and dance hall in the city. Kept me out all night just because it was your birthday and you damn well had the right.”

Bucky shifts his eyes away, unable to see such memories – vague, unattainable recollections of his past life, an utterly other life – through the simple, reminiscent lens of his friend. “Yeah, well. That was a long time ago.”

“Alright,” he sighs out, an almost disappointed edge to his voice. “Well, for what it’s worth… happy birthday, Buck.” He whips on a stiff button down – ever the dapper fella – and begins to do it up, keeping the sour-looking man in his periphery. “And just… be nice.” He heads for the door, dropping a hand to Bucky’s shoulder as he goes, giving him a swift jostle as he states, “She’s trying to do something nice for you. Don’t be a jerk about it.”

He does little more than mutter in response – something bleak and unintelligible that comes out like a lazy grunt – and turns to follow him out of the locker room, out of the sprawling gym. Each reluctant step towards the elevator, then down the hall to your newly shared apartment, seems to stutter and slow, his entire body prickling in a heated hesitation.

Why is it so different now? he muses dimly. Why does celebrating feel so… wrong?

Because it shouldn’t be happening, that’s why. Because he never should’ve lived to be 100 to begin with. And the only reason he did is because he was transformed into some sort of ageless monster, designed to kill. To end life. There’s no reason why anyone should be celebrating the beginning of his.

But of course, he’d never say that to you, would never tell you that he was undeserving of kindness or love or even just a birthday dinner. He’d tried that once already, and it ended with him donning a split lip. Tough love, apparently, was a phrase to live by where you came from.

“Ah,” you squeak out, an animated leap accompanying the all too excited utterance as you flash a wide, bright smile the moment he steps through the door. “You’re back! Perfect timing!”

His eyes blow wide as he looks just past you, cocking his head to peer at the fully made table to your left. “What is all this?” he asks with a laugh, sauntering over to the pristine settings and pulling in a long breath through his nose, taking in the strong aroma of… “Steak?”

You nod. “But don’t worry. I didn’t make it. I promise.”

Another laugh, and the accompanying smile lingers easily on his face, strain lifting from his shoulders as he watches you slip over to the counter to pour a couple fingers of what looks to be damn fine whiskey into a crystal tumbler.

“Sit,” you demand, dangling the glass dangerously between thumb and forefinger, waving it slowly back and forth in front of his face.

He does as requested, dropping into the chair, and reaching up for the glass only to have you flop heavily into his lap instead. A surprised oof blows out of him, followed by an amused, “Hey,” as you settle in and take a single, slow sip. Your eyes close, the softest hum of pleasure slipping from your lips as he slides the whiskey from your hand. “Good?” he asks before taking a long pull himself. “Mm, yeah,” he mutters, swiping his tongue languidly over his lips. “That is good.”

You nod and lean over to hack away at the giant, bloody steak on the table. “This,” you say with a flourish as you spear a bite with the fork and bring it up to Bucky’s mouth, “is from Donovan’s. One of Tony’s favorite places.” You wait until he accepts the bite, his lips still curling into a sly grin, before you raise a brow and further explain, “He claims it’ll melt in your mouth.”

Bucky chews slowly, relishing the perfectly rare-cooked meat before swallowing it down and offering a pleased nod. You dive back in and steal a bite for yourself, agreeing with Tony’s assessment wholeheartedly as you leisurely chew before moving your fork over to pick at the massive baked potato. Bucky lets out an airy chuckle in your ear, leaning forward to drop a swift, whiskey-laden kiss at your temple. “Is this my birthday dinner or yours?” he asks as he slowly lifts the hem of your shirt and sneaks his cool metal digits beneath.

You jolt in his lap as he splays his icy palm over your ribs and lets out another light laugh. “Fine. Fine,” you mutter, feigning annoyance as you rise and hand over the fork. “I’ll just sit over here… all alone.” You lower yourself into the chair across from him, bottom lip pulling into an overdone pout, all in the hopes of getting even just one more precious, sunny laugh out of him.

It works too. One laugh, one smile, each bleeding easily into the next as you sit across from your 100-year-old counterpart. Your – sometimes better, sometimes worse – other half.

The two of you slip easily into the moment, enjoying a calm and leisurely – and delicious – dinner together. The few words that fall from either of your lips – all too often busy with the succulent steak, dripping-with-butter potato, oddly amazing brussels sprouts – are truly unneeded, talking feeling wholly underrated when you can simply bask in the presence of one another. And play a dangerously distracting game of footsie beneath the table.

Once the meal is over, both plates practically licked clean, you jump up to clear the dishes, eager to get at them before he tries to take over. You drop everything into the sink with a clank and a thud – wince when you hear him hiss out a disgruntled, “Easy, baby.” – and pour him another drink before turning to slowly back out of the kitchen, holding the whiskey up like a carrot as you beckon him into the other room.

“Where are we going?” he asks, wily expression on his face, his hands dropping down to your hips as he backs you into the hall.

He begins to turn, not-so-subtly angling towards the bedroom. But you shuffle your feet to a halt. “Uh, uh,” you intone with a shake of the head. “You still have to open your present.”

His fingers trail up your sides, even as his head drops, lips lowering to your exposed collarbone where he sucks a small, sweet, red blossom into your skin. “Yeah,” he mutters into you, flesh hand ducking beneath your shirt, pressing a hot palm to the small of your back. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“No,” you laugh out, stepping out of his loose grip and giving him a small shove. You tug his hand out from beneath your shirt, wrap his fingers around the whiskey glass, and saunter off to the other side of the room to dig out a small, wrapped package. “I just ate a potato that weighed like four pounds,” you say as you slump heavily onto the couch, neatly wrapped gift in hand. “I need some time before… that.”

He rolls his eyes, takes a long sip of sweet, brown liquor, and sets the tumbler down on the side table before sitting beside you. “Okay,” he mutters vaguely, that unsure look returning to his face. “How much time do you need to digest?”

You laugh, the bright and tinkling sound swiftly bringing back his delicate, crooked smile. “Shame we can’t all have a super soldier’s metabolism, huh?”

He cocks his head playfully. “Am I not being patient enough? I thought I was being very patient.”

You let out a rather indignant snort and toss the gift haphazardly into his lap. “Yeah, sure. Patient. Also grateful. And kind…”

He leans forward then, curling into the bend of your neck and peppering your skin with swift kisses. “I am grateful, baby,” he murmurs into you. “Always grateful for you.”

Your hand slinks up into his hair, fingertips dancing lightly along his scalp. “Well… as for the patience part… we still have cake to get to too.”

“Thought you were full,” he whispers softly, his lips, tongue, now tracing the line of your jaw.

“But it’s your favorite,” you state, craning your head to give him better access.

“You’re my favorite,” he mutters into you. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well,” you intone thickly, pulling away just a bit, knowing full well that if you don’t manage to duck out of this now, you certainly won’t be able to later. “That is good to hear. But I have it on good authority that devil’s food cake is your favorite.”

“Really?” he asks, voice sounding utterly disinterested as he tugs you closer.

You nod. “Steve gave me your mom’s recipe.”

His lips still on your neck, body stiffening beside you. He pulls away with a start, confused look on his face. “My mom’s recipe?” You nod again, raising a questioning brow. “You made… my mom’s cake? For me?”

Your hand slowly slides down to cup his cheek, eyes shining brightly as you say simply, “Sure did, baby.”

He looks almost… lost. For a long moment, he does nothing but stare at you, seemingly assessing everything about you. His hand rises to your face, fingertips brushing lightly along your cheek, thumb dropping low to gently press into the center of your bottom lip. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

“I do,” you say, tone straight and serious, teasing quality playing only in your sparkling eyes. You give him a wide smile and a little shove, gaze dropping down to the package in his lap. “Now, open your present.”

That crooked smile returns, not quite a smirk, certainly not a leer. You’ve come to know it as one of his most sincere expressions, even if it isn’t quite as bright and broad as that ever-elusive beam that only occasionally breaks across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It sets off butterflies in your stomach just the same. Because both of those smiles are seemingly only ever directed at you.

He looks down at the gift with a sigh and gingerly tears into the wrapping, pulling it apart to reveal deep brown leather, thick and supple. He slides his fingers delicately over it, over the flat, soft surface, before pulling it out of the wrapping entirely and flipping it over in his hands.

“It’s a new journal,” you mutter, tone suddenly peppered with apprehension. He looks up, expression unreadable, and you give a short shrug. “You only ever write in those notebooks and… important things… like your memories? Those should have a nicer place to live.”

His eyes lighten to a luminous, icy blue as he continues to stare over at you, into you. “That’s really nice, baby,” he says softly. “I love it.” His gaze drops back down to the book in his hand, brow furrowing as he traces a finger over the sharp, ridged pattern running along the edges of the cover. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” you start, a hint of hesitation working into your tone. “Yeah. That.” You reach over and pick up the journal, flip it over to show him that the same etching stretches along the back as well. “It’s my heartbeat.”

His eyes fly up to meet yours, a quick chortle pulling from his chest. “What?” he barks out, glancing back at the design and noting now that, yes, it does appear to resemble an EKG readout.

“Yeah, I had someone in medical record it for me. And then I sent it off to some… leather smith or whatever they’re called to emboss it… or… whatever.” You shake your head dismissively. “Anyway, it’s 101 beats of my heart. One for every year you’ve been alive. Plus one to grow on.”

“You…” He sputters for a moment, still staring down at the journal, staring down at the very rhythm of your heart sitting in his hands. And then his face splits wide, that big, bright beam you’d been waiting for – hoping for – taking over as he raises his head and locks onto your eyes. “You crazy girl,” he laughs out, shaking his head fondly.

“Crazy?” you bleat out, only barely able to maintain the faux vexation. “I just gave you my heart… almost literally!”

“Still figuratively,” he states with a raised brow. “But I damn sure love it even more now.”

“Well, good,” you breathe out, reaching over and tugging back the cover. “Then hopefully you’ll forgive the fact that I took the liberty of filling in the first entry for you. Go on,” you prod as soon as you see his eyes drop to take in your sloppily scrawled words. “Read it.”

He settles back into the couch with a grin, holding the journal open with one hand as he clears his throat dramatically and begins. “Dear diary,” he reads aloud, choking suddenly on a laugh as he shakes his head lazily back and forth. “You think that’s how I start a journal entry?”

You shrug. “I don’t make it a habit of reading other people’s diaries, so I really wouldn’t know.”

“It’s a journal,” he corrects, both brows cocked high as he leans back to peer down at you.

You merely roll your eyes in response, tapping the open book impatiently in a swift and silent order for him to continue.

He returns to the page, corner of his mouth quirking into a crooked grin as you press yourself into his side, laying your head atop his shoulder. “Today is my 100th birthday,” he goes on coolly. “My wonderful, brilliant, patient, funny, charismatic, beautiful, delightful, best damn girl,” he breathes out with a snicker, “treated me to breakfast in bed.”

“You were supposed to still be in bed,” you gripe from his side.

He goes on, gentle amusement and utter adoration blooming in his gut, as he reads aloud, “She’s really the best.”

You snake even closer, wrapping your arms around his bicep and singing out, “It’s true.”

He gives a slight nod and returns to the entry. “She ordered steak from the best place in town. Diary, you do not want to know how much that cow cost.” His head cocks towards you, single brow raising in an almost admonishing way. Again, you shrug and tick your eyes back to the page, encouraging him to go on. He does so, uttering, “Then she gave me her heart,” with a gentle fondness.

“I really am a peach,” you mutter, turning your face just a bit and pressing a lingering kiss onto his shoulder.

“You are, baby,” he agrees, dropping his lips to your hair for a moment before returning to finish the entry. He clears his throat again and continues with, “It was simply the best birthday I’ve had in all my hundred years. And the best part of all was the homemade cake, which my girl made with equal parts chocolate and love.” Another snicker escapes him, though it chokes and sputters in his throat as he reads the next sentence, uttering slowly, “and then wore like a nighty so I could lick icing off her thighs all night long.”

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