#be honest bucky how many dreams did you have of waking up next to her

[latibvles]

“I sleep so I can see you and I hate to wait so long.” is Bucky waiting for Viv in the Stalag. To me.

[mypoisonedvine]

please I need more of 40s alpha bucky becoming the winter soldier, i need to know what happens I need them to be together again I'm dying

coming right up, anon! it gets smutty under the cut... additional warnings for violence, threatened/implied noncon (very brief), angst, and also use of a syringe so needle phobics watch out

read part 1 first

"The woman... the Omega..." Bucky mumbled. "She knew me... she had my mark."

"No she didn't."

He furrowed his brow.  "She showed me..."

Pierce sighed, glancing over to the HYDRA scientist who looked back at him sternly.

"She's too dangerous to be left alive," the man sighed, shrugging in his labcoat. "We can't deprogram a bond like that."

"We'll take care of her," Pierce promised.

Bucky launched from the chair, snapping his restraints like paper. "Touch her and I'll fucking kill you!" he bellowed, tackling his handler to the ground.

Pierce just laughed as another scientist jabbed Bucky with a needle, dosing him with something strong enough to kill any other man but just enough to knock out a super soldier. Pierce stood up and dusted himself off as he watched Bucky go limp and be lifted back into his chair.

"I can see the fight in your eyes, Soldier," he taunted as he leaned in to his face. "I know you really would kill me, if you could. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, right? But don't worry about your mate, we'll make it quick and painless. Hey, maybe beforehand me and a few of the other Alphas will show her a good time, poor thing's been without her mate for 70 years... I bet she's raring to go."

Bucky's arm twitched as his eyes started to fall shut, a tear falling down his blank and motionless face.

"Wipe him," Pierce instructed to the scientist, turning and walking away as the electric whirr of the machine charging up filled the room.

//

Steve was impressed with how accurate and imminent your prediction was; HYDRA was hot on your trail and desperate to eliminate the biggest threat to their Asset. Knowing they were coming made it easier, but it was still a brutal fight.

You and Steve tried to stay together, but they were smart, they used the perfect bait to lure you away.

"Tell me where he is," you demanded from the HYDRA agent as you held a blade to his neck, "then I'll kill you."

"Isn't it supposed to be 'or I'll kill you'?" he frowned.

You shook your head. "Not the way I operate."

Opposite to the reaction you were expecting, he grinned widely. "He's here."

Your heart stopped.

"On the roof. He's here to kill you."

You dropped the knife and ran straight for the stairwell, ascending them like they were nothing and calling out for your Alpha.

You found him there, waiting, gun trained on you. Raising your hands in surrender, you yelled to him again.

"Bucky," you called across the windy roof, eyes nearly blinded by the bright afternoon sun. "Alpha."

"I'm not who you think I am," he yelled back. "I'm not your Alpha."

It hurt to hear it in his voice, but you knew it wasn't him. Cautiously, you stepped closer. "Before you left, you told me you didn't want to mark me and leave me behind," you recalled. "But I wanted it. I wanted to be bonded to you more than I'd ever wanted anything."

He could clearly see you were coming closer, he even tightened his finger over the trigger of his weapon, but he was waiting. You kept walking to him, slowly.

"I've never regretted it," you continued, "not even when I thought you were dead, not even when I had to spent a lifetime-- more than that-- apart from you."

Finally you were face to face, and you stepped closer until his gun was pressed right into your chest.

"You can shoot me now and I still won't regret it," you promised. "I love you."

Shakily, he lowered his weapon. "Omega..." he breathed.

"Your Omega."

He pulled you into him and you sobbed as you felt him come to life in your arms-- the real him, your Alpha, your Bucky. He held you close and breathed against the top of your head and it was like a dream coming true decades after you'd forced yourself to let it go.

But you'd never given up. And now you had found him again.

Agents started to come onto the roof and Bucky spun the two of you around, firing with his right hand and using the left, metal arm as a shield for you.

He carried you and you didn't even know where he was taking you, but it didn't matter. In his arms, you were home.

//

You hadn't stopped coming or crying for at least an hour. Bucky had all but split you open on his knot all night and he didn't show any signs of stopping.

He apparently intended to make up for lost time. And you'd lost a lot of time.

"Just one more, I know you can give me one more," he groaned furiously rubbing your clit as his knot began to swell again.

You could give him anything, as long as he asked for it like that.

You'd lost count of how many times he'd told you to come for him, and how many times you did it immediately.

"I can see how full you are," he whispered as he rubbed your stomach gently. "So much seed in you that your body can't hold it all."

You looked down and yep, you were distinctly bloated from his come alone; it made you a little dizzy to even look at it.

"The idea of you alone during your heats, no one to protect you, it kills me," he explained with a growl. "I won't let you go again. I can't."

"Then don't," you sighed. "Never leave this bed, fill me with everything you have."

"Did anybody ever help you through them? The heats?" he asked. "I wouldn't blame you, they can be so painful... I just need to know so I can make sure you forget about them."

"No, Bucky, never-- I never let anyone touch me."

"Steve could've helped you, at least some..."

"He wouldn't have, he loves you too much. And I wouldn't accept anything less than you, ever. You're my Alpha. We're bonded. There's never anyone else."

That didn't seem to satisfy him, his eyes darting away as he swallowed. Your gut sank with the realization he probably wasn't being totally honest about why he asked.

"Your ruts," you gasped. "Were you alone for all of them?"

He shut his lips tighter.

"Bucky, it's okay, just tell me. I was asleep for 70 years, I skipped most of them, but you... you had to live through them all."

"They gave me betas, and omegas," he mumbled, "but I don't... I don't really remember. I know they wanted me to. They threatened to hurt me if I didn't, because they knew I'd go crazy after so many ruts alone, but I can't remember if I really did it. I remember... I remember crying, and begging for you."

"Alpha," you breathed as you felt new tears run over the stains of your old ones. "It's okay. Whatever happened, it's okay now. We're together again. Everything's okay."

You wiped his tear away with your thumb, holding his face tightly, weaving your fingers into his long hair.

"I'll always be your Omega," you promised.

He leaned in closer to you, kissing your cheek before pulling back a little. "It's faded," he whispered as he ran his thumb over the mark on your neck. "The last time I saw it, it was still fresh."

"It's older, sure, but it's stronger than ever, Bucky."

//

Steve's eyes went wide when he saw you in the hall. "Surprised to see you out of the love nest so soon," he smirked.

"It's been three days, I don't think that counts as soon," you scoffed.

"It does to him," Steve frowned. "He's asleep, isn't he?"

"Yep."

"I know he wouldn't let you out of his sights if he was conscious," Steve chuckled.

At that moment, you heard Bucky call your name and run out into the hall, only a bedsheet covering his groin. You spun around and smiled when you saw him come running towards you, embracing you with his free arm.

"You should've told me you were leaving, I got scared when I woke up without you," he admitted weakly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry!"

He pulled back and clutched your face in both his hands. "I'm waking up next to you every morning for the rest of my life, you understand?"

You nodded dutifully. "Yes, Alpha."

"One hand on the sheet, please, Buck?" Steve winced, looking away.

“Whoops,” Bucky groaned, reaching to cover himself as you laughed softly.  

“Let’s go back to bed, baby,” you decided quietly, taking Bucky’s (free) hand in yours and waving goodbye to Steve, who was already making his way as far out of earshot as possible.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry VII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mentions of previous forced oral, abuse of power, these men ain't shit.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You face a reckoning for evading your lord.

Note: This wasn't planned but things just turned out this way because my go to is fuck the reader. Oop.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The nights only got harder. It didn't matter if Lord Barnes wanted to touch you or wanted you to touch him, even just laying beside him was torment. You hated what he'd done to you and what he'd made you do. You hated yourself more for how he made you feel.

You decided that day in the carriage during the rainstorm that you hated him. You hated Lord Barnes more than even Lord Rogers. At least the latter was honest in his lechery, he did not try to veil his true desires but Barnes spoke to you sweetly as he forced his needs upon you.

The night before you were due to reach the capital, you did not sleep. You couldn't in the bed next to Barnes. He wanted to be astride as he entered the city and so you were left to ride alone in the carriage. The sway soon had you across the bench in a deep slumber. It was the best sleep you had in weeks.

You only woke as a hammering came at the door and streaks of sunlight were let in as it opened. A footman called you out and helped you down the step into the dirt. You batted your sleepy eyes and marveled at the castle as it came clear. It was getting colder as the autumn wore on, bitter. It was the wrong season for a tournament.

As you trod through the beaten yard of the castle, Lord Barnes clapped off his right hand, the leather glove dusting, and approached you. He’s gaze strayed to Lord Rogers for a moment then back to you. He dropped his shoulders and scrunched his lips.

“I have an audience with the king,” he said glumly, “as much as I’d prefer you attend with me it has been brought to my attention that… the court might not be as accommodating to you as I am. Regardless, I might have a seat arranged for you at the feast and you were surely sit in the rows for the sparring.”

“I… my lord, I am only--”

“I told you,” he interjected, “you are not a maid anymore.”

You held your tongue as you wanted to spit at him. What were you? A courtesan? A whore? Was that better than emptying his pot? You dipped your head and pulled your cape snug, “my lord.”

“See her to my rooms,” Barnes directed the footman at your shoulder, “once the chests are unpacked, she is to be undisturbed. My guard will have the same orders.”

“Yes, my lord,” the footman bowed, “my lady.”

You looked at the footman and slowly followed him away from Barnes. You were eager to be away from him but not eager to be shown your new prison. You entered the castle and followed the torchlit corridors beside the footman.

“I’m not a lady,” you said at last, “I don’t want you to ever call me that again.”

“My apologies, my--” he stuttered, “the lord bid it.”

“He lies to himself and you,” you muttered, “I was born as you, likely lower. My own mother was a laundress and my father a stablehand. Cut from the finest, I am.”

The footman was quiet as he waved you ahead of him up the coiling stairwell. You regretted your harsh words but knew they could never be delivered to their true target. When you reached the chamber designated to your master, you stopped outside. Lester was already at his station by the lord’s doors.

“I am sorry,” you told the footman, “I was unkind. You do not deserve that.”

His lips curved slightly and he hid his amusement, “I know now you are like me,” he said softly, “the nobles, they don’t apologise.”

You chuckled darkly and left him. You passed the servants as they carried in trunks and opened them in a flurry of duty. You went to the bedroom and climbed up on the large feather mattress. That time you had to yourself, even surrounded by the chaos of your arrival, was a relief. You did not know how long you’d get away from Barnes.

🏰

You fell asleep again. This time, you weren’t floating in your dreams, driven wildly by the tides, but you were still, straight as a board in the ground as dirty sprinkled onto you. The cold earth warmed as the layers piled on you. Deeper, deeper, deeper until you couldn’t breathe.

You woke with a start and nearly screamed as a shadow loomed over you. Barnes sat beside you, his legs over the edge of the couch. He played with the lifeless fingers of his artificial hand. Your hood was on the pillow, crumpled and the folds of your dress were bunched awkwardly beneath your body.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he murmured, “just wanted to sit with you.”

“How long--”

“It is almost time for supper,” he said, “but the feast is not until the morrow. You might remain and rest some more.”

You didn’t move, just looked up at the canopy and laid there. You didn’t say anything more as you folded your arms over the stiff bodice.

“You should sleep… the journey was long. Tiring,” he continued.

You just blinked but didn’t close your eyes. The canopy was a rich green marked with gold. The stitches were woven in the shape of leaves and vines. You thought of the forest and those days you were so scared. You were much more terrified now.

“I wanted to say, and I should now since you are awake,” he began as he leaned on his elbow and his other arm fell limp and heavy, “what occurred with Rogers will not arise again. I made him a promise I regret and it was sorted.”

You held back a shudder as you thought of the salty tasted and the pungent scent of their arousal. You swallowed and hugged yourself tighter.

“If he attempts to reenact the scene, or more, you will inform me, and you have my leave to see that he does not,” Barnes said sternly, “you are still mine. I would not have you confused.”

You rolled onto your side so that your back was to him. He huffed and his hand fell onto your side. He squeezed and the bed shifted. He said your name and every muscle in your body went taut.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“I’m tired,” you said.

“I want no mistake. You--”

“I belong to you,” you sneered, “you want to use me, you want to own me, you want me to tell you I know I am nothing but the dirt beneath your boot. Let me assure you I am aware--”

“Do not speak to me as such,” he hissed.

You bit back your voice and heaved. You sucked in your cheeks and wriggled away from his reach. “It is understood, my lord. Now as you bid, I would sleep.”

🏰

The only grace allowed you at the feast, rather denied you, was a seat with your lord. As much as Barnes would prefer to have you close he was still bound by the expectations of court. He didn't let on that you were merely a servant but you didn't think anyone could believe otherwise. For his vouching, you were sat among the lower lords and ladies.

You watched as wine was poured for you. You eyed the girl who kept her chin down as the filled the cups and thought of your own time in a similar duty. What did Barnes find so fascinating about you? You had only done what dozens others had done for him before. You couldn't figure you had an outstanding feature or manner that could explain his interest, it could only be your own poor luck.

You ate without tasting, without zeal, slowly as you brought fork to lip and dissolved into the chatter of strangers around you. All those seated at the long tables had a partner or some family with them. You were alone. Your parents were dead and all those you'd ever had a kindred tie to were far away.

"Uncle," a voice perked up across from you and drew your attention as you chewed the spiced rabbit meat, "if I made the lists, surely I can win!"

"My coin got you on those lists," the older man replied, "it is all formality. Should you gace a king or a duke, you would be remiss to claim victory."

"I am to lay down for their title?" The younger scoffed, "I am a man now and I have trained--"

"But you think like a boy," the other rebuked, "a runner up can take a fine purse still and if you feed the ego of a high borne man he will be more willing to show you favour."

You lowered your fork and looked at the two men as they argued. The elder`s hair was sprinkled with grey but the rest the same shade of reddish brown as the youth. You were heartened by their familial banter but saddened at your own solace. You dropped your hands to your lap and looked at your plate.

"Dear," the woman beside you touched your sleeve, "are you well?"

You turned to her startled and nodded. "Yes, my lady," you cleared your throat, "fine indeed."

She peered past you then shared a look with the older man across the table. She was not so grey as him. She smiled and withdrew her hand. "You are alone?"

"Only me, my lady," you answered.

"And overly polite," she chuckled, "a pity. A young girl sent to court without escort. What family could do such a thing? You must be frightened out of your wits."

"I will… persevere," you said.

"Ay but it is the nature of these events to be cordial. I am May Parker, my husband is a baron," she gestured to the older man across from you, "Benjamin, and my nephew, Peter, a viscount in his beloved father's stead," she smiled at the younger man, "and your name?"

You hadn't been told what to say in the circumstance. You hadn't thought of it and surely Barnes hadn't either. You would have to garnish the truth with enough lies to get by. You twined your fingers together. You offered your name, your truth, then conjured your lies as you spoke.

"My father is, er, was, a baron as well," you said, "I am his only child."

"Oh, you sweet thing, if you would be alone for this tournament, you might stay near to us. My nephew hasn't many peers of his age just yet, and my husband is much too weary to keep up with him."

You glanced around, the two men bowed their heads in greeting. You attempted a smile and thanked her.

"Our Peter will be competing in the joust and in the sword contest," she announced, "we did urge him to enter the bow and arrow but he finds it dull."

"Oh," you were uncertain how to address these people, to speak as if you were their equal, "I've never attended a tourney before."

"Best you stay close then," she squeezed your hand gently, "why look at all these people! Even that Duke from the north came, bless him, that one who did lose his arm in the campaigns."

You reached for your wine to hide your discomfort at the mention of him. All you had to do was pretend for the evening and you'd likely not see these people again. As friendly as they were, you couldn't stand to make friends only to lose them.

You listened for the rest of the courses as May and her family did much of the talking. There were moments you forgot your predicament, even that you were born a peasant, but when it returned to you, the food turned to a lump in your stomach and your heart clamoured.

You were roused from the waking dream only as the music plucked up and the plates were cleared by your own ilk. May chuckled and stood as her husband came around to her. She paused as the bodies flooded from the benches onto the boards. She touched your shoulder kindly, "if you would be in want of a partner, our Peter is rather graceful."

You looked to the younger Parker and he lit up. "Only if you like, miss."

"I… would say I am not so," you said evasively.

"It would not bother me, I trained with the old hound that slept in our barn, he slobbered quite heavily," he laughed, "but I would be indebted should you allow me the treat of a true partner."

"I suppose…" you looked to the high table where Barnes scowled at Lord Rogers, entirely unconcerned with you for the first time in a while. Perhaps this was a chance; lose yourself in the crowd and you might find the opening you needed. Or perhaps merely a respite from him at least, "I do warn you however, I would not know where to place my feet."

May and Benjamin swept away as Peter came around to you. He offered his arm and you mimicked the other ladies as you took it.

He lifted his shoulders proudly as he led you to the floor, "only step around my own and I will do my best not to trod on your slippers, lady." He turned you in time with the music, your arms hooked so that you faced in opposing direction, "follow me and do not worry so much. No one is watching us so closely."

You smiled, a real smile that time as the strings and flutes filled your chest. As this kind stranger patiently guided you around the boards. You raised your chin as you did your best to stay on the beat but nearly tripped as your eyes met another pair.

Lord Barnes glared down at you from the high table, the only lord remaining in his seat, and his hand gripped the stem of his goblet tightly. Even at the distance, you felt his chagrin. And as he stood, your sole met Peter's toe but he only snickered and righted you.

"You're doing fine, lady," he assured as he spun and switched arms, you let him lead you dumbly as you watched Barnes descend from the dais, "a natural."

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the marathon

Part 7 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different  point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Mentions of PMS in this chapter! I’ve also given Y/N a couple of interests to add a bit more to the story to help it progress

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 7 |Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

You’d been doing your best to dodge Bucky as soon as you felt your body's usual symptoms start to develop. It started as it always did with feeling bloated before the short temperedness set in. Bucky was sweet and kind and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your temper so you opted out of your usual Friday night pizza with him, giving the excuse of being called into work which he accepted with disappointment. 

Saturday morning came and as usual, painkillers did nothing to soothe the ache in your lower gut. Traipsing into your kitchen, you filled the kettle up with water before putting it on the hob and started to root around for your hot water bottle whilst you waited for the water to boil. 

A knock on your door interrupted your hunt and rather reluctantly, you made your way over to the door, unbothered by your sleepwear attire. 

Swinging the door open, you instantly regretted not ignoring it. 

“Hey doll” 

It was upsetting seeing Bucky look so good on a morning when you felt so rotten. Even worse, you were fully aware of how you currently looked - unbrushed hair, no make up and Bucky’s t-shirt which only just covered the tops of your thighs. Self consciously, you eased the door closed a little bit and shielded your body from view. 

“Hi Bucky, what’s up?” You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

“Can I come in?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to catch more of a glimpse of you. 

“Now’s not a great time…” You grumbled, feeling guilty as you saw the smile drop from his face. 

“Are you avoiding me?” The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. 

Taken aback by his forwardness, you paused for a moment, your jaw opening and closing as you didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’m sorry, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s just I heard you in your apartment last night crying but you said you were at work and I was worried-” 

He started to ramble as he panicked he’d overstepped the mark so you swiftly cut him off. “Don’t be, you’re right, I have been avoiding you.” 

“....oh” Bucky's eyes shot down to the floor as he nodded his head. Your admission cut deep and every insecurity Bucky felt rushed to the surface as he processed your words. “I thought-” he started but not quite knowing how to finish his sentence.

You cursed your inability to think before speaking as you reached out towards him, no longer caring about your appearance as you took his metal hand in yours. “It’s nothing you did, I’m just not myself at the moment, I’m not exactly great to be around when it's my time” You emphasised the last bit, hoping he’d get the hint without having to spell it out. 

You were wrong. 

Bucky lifted his head and looked back at you, confusion etched across his handsome features. “You’ve lost me” 

“Remember how you got that scar on the back of your head?” 

“Yeah my sister threw a book at me” 

“Uhuh, and do you remember why she did that?” 

“I ate the biscuits she saved for when she- oh!” It suddenly hit Bucky as to what you’d been hinting at and suddenly he felt like the world’s biggest idiot. 

“Safe to say me and your sister have the monthly mood swings in common” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well...um… if you need me, you know where I am” 

“Thanks Buck” You smiled up at him and tried not to swoon on the spot as he leant towards you, his lips pressing against your forehead, gently kissing you as he cradled the back of your head with his hand. 

His thumb stroked the back of your neck as his lips left your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, I thought I was saving you” 

“Trust me, I’ve survived worse” He joked, tucking one of your many stray hairs behind your ear. It suddenly dawned on you what your current state of attire was and you hastily tried to flatten your hair and pull the t-shirt down to cover more of your bare legs. 

Bucky tried his best to avert his eyes from your state of undress, not having taking note of how you donned his t-shirt beforehand, too focused on your wellbeing but he found himself failing miserably. You were too cute with your bed head hair sticking up in random places and slightly dark eyes where you’d not completely removed yesterday's mascara. And then there was his t-shirt. Fuck - he’d nearly lost it when you’d warn it the night you’d gotten locked out of your apartment but thankfully your legs were covered. But now? It was driving him mad seeing inch upon inch of bare skin, his t-shirt barely covering your underwear. He wanted nothing more than to shove you against the wall and run his hands over your impossibly soft skin. 

The sound of your kettle boiling over snapped him out of it and he watched as you darted over to the kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway, facing away from you as he was positive he’d be able to see your ass as you walked. 

“I’ll come back doll” 

Before you had a chance to respond, he’d already closed your door behind him. 

Hastily, you made up your hot water bottle and quickly jumped into the shower, unsure as to when he would return. 

Half an hour later, Bucky was back at your door, grocery bag in hand. “I’ve brought you a few things for... y’know.” 

Opening your door wide for him, you chuckled at his awkwardness and gestured for him to come in. “You really didn’t need to-are those Peanut Buttercups?!” Rushing towards him you grabbed the bag out of his hands and began rummaging through his purchases. 

Laughing at your response he left you to it as he hung up his jacket next to yours as he usually did and took up his spot on your couch. 

“I remember what Rebecca was like and figured you might appreciate a bit of sugar.” 

You could only moan in response as you devoured your chocolate treat. Grabbing your hot water bottle from the side table, you made your way over to the couch and sank into the seat next to Bucky, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Any plans for today?” You asked, holding up the last bite of your candy bar. 

“Nope” Leaning forward, he took the chocolate from you using his teeth as he finished it off.

“Then you’re in for a treat” You sunk deeper into the sofa as he lifted his arm up, resting it along the top of the couch cushion, letting you lean further into him. Bucky also took the opportunity to pull the blanket from the couch down onto you, tucking you into his side. 

To say Bucky was excited when you told him there were sequels to The Hobbit would be an understatement. For him to then find out they were turned into movies was almost too much.

He was in heaven. He was watching Middle Earth come to life, just how he imagined it would be whilst cuddled up against his favourite girl. 

He wished it could be like this all the time, when he was with you the memories of who he was before subsided, along with all the guilt and shame. Even when he was in Wakanda, he hadn’t dared to dream of having any sort of normal life, he’d accepted it just wasn’t on the cards for him. That he’d always be alone. 

When Steve left, that only solidified his belief that he was destined to be alone. Part of him was okay with that, this way he wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. But the other part of him, the part that even Hydra couldn’t wipe out, longed for a companion, whether it be platonic or romantic.

Finding you was a miracle. You were so carefree, so honest, open and kind. You put up with his old fashioned ways, you didn’t make fun of his odd quirks or question why sometimes he needed to just be on his own. You both also had a lot in common, you both enjoyed modern technology and sciences and often found yourselves watching documentaries and educational pieces on TV together. Bucky was also delighted to learn you were obsessed with motorcycles and was planning a road trip for you both for when you next had some time off work - a surprise he was having a hard time hiding from you. 

Half way through the first film he felt you nodding off, having come down from the sudden sugar intake. Pulling you tighter against him, he kissed your head and lowered the volume on the TV, not wanting to wake you. 

As the second film started, you stirred awake, the cramps returning with a vengeance. As you opened your eyes you realised you’d snuggled into Bucky, nuzzling into his chest, leaving a small amount of drool on his black t-shirt. Jolting backwards, you hastily wiped your mouth and tore yourself from his arms in embarrassment. 

Bucky’s eyes hadn’t strayed from the TV as he remained completely emerged in Middle Earth. 

“Sorry I didn’t realise-”

He quickly shushed you as he continued watching the film. However he did miss your warmth and spread his arms wide, inviting you back into your previous position. “C’mere” 

Trying not to read too much into it, you smiled and sank back into his arms, sighing as they wrapped around you, his right hand resting over your stomach, soothing your cramps. 

It was well into the night when you finished your movie marathon, both of you enjoying every minute. You knew friends didn’t cuddle - not like this. They didn’t make your heart race like Bucky did. They didn’t make butterflies erupt in your stomach every time they so much as looked at you. 

You were in trouble.

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter four | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | mild angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence, smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | the romance tropes keep coming, angst, canon-typical violence, mild alcohol use, smut (m/f), 18+ ONLY

master list | AO3 link

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prev chapter

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The months pass slowly, and Kate is content to stay in the little bubble she and Bucky have built. She almost forgets she has to tell Steve about Bucky at some point. Almost.

She wakes one morning in early June with Bucky's arms tight around her. They've been sleeping together most nights, and they’ve both found it keeps their nightmares away. As she shifts her body to rise from the bed, his hold tightens. He buries his face in the curls at the nape of her neck.

“Bucky,” she whines, “let me go.”

He rolls her onto her back and hovers over her, peppering kisses over her face. When his lips finally meet hers, he sweeps his tongue into her mouth and tastes her. She pushes against his shoulders, and he relents, lifting from her.

“Bucky,” she laughs, “I have to pee.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, too, and she loves that rare sound.

"I'm going to shower and start the coffee," she says, slipping out of his grasp.

Bucky flops onto his back and enjoys the smell of Kate on the sheets around him, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. He’s content to lay like this all day, if only Kate would return to bed. Finally, he stretches, happily, and his hand hits an empty beer bottle he left on the nightstand the night before. The bottle tips and rolls beneath the bed, and Bucky groans. He climbs out of bed and slips his boxers on before kneeling on the floor and reaching for it. As his hand wraps around the rogue bottle and pulls back, he feels something sticking out from under the bed frame. When he draws it out, he can see that it’s a file.

He opens it, and his heart stops. The Winter Soldier. His military photo is staring back at him, along with records of who he was, what they made him do.

A cold rage tears through him. He's been so stupid. He let her get close and now she would turn him over to HYDRA.

The bathroom door opens, and Kate steps out, dressed in clean sweats, her damp hair curling down her back.

"Who are you?" he growls.

Kate sees the open file and the hard look in Bucky's eyes. She doesn’t answer.

"Who. Are. You?" He’s on her before he finishes the sentence, his titanium hand wrapping around her neck and slamming her against the wall. “Who do you work for? HYDRA?"

She shakes her head vehemently and tries to speak through his stranglehold. He loosens his grip.

"No," she says. “I know Steve Rogers."

"What?"

"Steve Rogers asked me to find you."

He drops his hand from her neck, and she gulps in air, her own hands reaching up to touch the tender flesh.

“I work for Stark Industries. My name is Katherine Stark. Two years ago, Steve asked for my help tracking you down. I hacked cameras around the globe and ran the footage through an advanced facial recognition software I designed. When I got a hit on you in Bucharest, I came to see if it was really you. I wanted to be sure before I told Steve.”

“Does he know where I am?” he questions.

“No.”

“You lied to me,” Bucky growls.

“I never lied…I….” She pauses. “It’s not like you were honest with me, Sergeant Barnes,” she digs.

Bucky’s jaw clenches.

"Are you going to tell Steve Rogers where I am?" he questions.

She hesitates, then says, "No."

He nods once, then grabs the rest of his clothes and leaves, slamming the door on his way out. Kate collapses to the floor, sobbing.

_____

Bucky paces in his own apartment. Stark. The name feels familiar, but he can’t place it, and he’s too angry to think straight. He loved Kate – loves her still, despite his anger and this betrayal. He clenches his titanium fist so tightly he can hear metal grinding on metal.

In her own flat, Kate allows herself to sob for a while before pushing herself off the floor. She’s ruined everything. She thinks about calling Steve, letting him swoop in to save the day. She imagines him confronting Bucky, talking sense into him, convincing him that she was only doing what she thought was best. But she knows that isn't true; she wasn't doing what was best, she was being selfish when she came to Bucharest. She thought she could save Bucky and now she's pushed him away. She knows Bucky will run, knows he'll disappear somewhere, and she'll never be able to find him again, but she can't bring herself to call Steve and admit her mistake. She doesn't want to tell him that she found Bucky and then absolutely ruined him.

_____

The day passes slowly. Bucky keeps pacing, angry but unsure what his next move should be, afraid Captain America will knock down his door any moment and he'll be forced to confront his past. And what of his past? He's been remembering more and more, writing everything down. With Kate, he feels like the Bucky he was before the war, before HYDRA, but he can't shake the feeling that the Winter Soldier is still lurking inside of him, so tangled up with who he is that he'll never escape the Soldat.

He thinks about the file Kate has and the photo of him stuck to the inside cover – twenty-six, eager to serve his country and prove himself, completely unaware of the horrors his future would hold, the things he would be made to do. He wonders what Kate saw when she looked at that photo. If she read the file then she knows who is really is, but she still let him get close to her; she still let him into her bed and fucked him every night. Bucky scrubs a hand over his face.

And if she knows Steve Rogers, then she also knows about his past – before HYDRA. He's knocking on her door before he can stop himself. When she opens it, he can see that she's been crying, but he can't let himself dwell on that.

“Tell me what you know about me," he says.

She stares at him for a moment before moving aside and letting him in. There's a suitcase on the floor – half-full – and a bottle of whisky on the kitchen table. She pours him a glass, then refills her own. They sit at her kitchen table.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," she starts, "Born March 10, 1917 in Brooklyn, New York. Father: George. Mother: Winnifred. Sister: Rebecca. Childhood best friend: Steve Rogers. Drafted in 1943. Expert marksman. Captured by HYDRA in '44. Rescued by Captain America. Completed missions with the Howling Commandos. 1945 presumed dead. Captured by the Soviets and used as a weapon by HYDRA. The Winter Soldier."

He knew all of this – bits and pieces of it, at least – but he's gutted by how much she knows, how much she didn't tell him.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

“Steve asked me to find you," she says. After a while she adds, "When my software identified you, here in the Bucharest, I was afraid of what Steve would do, afraid that if you ran again, it would break him. I thought if I could keep Steve in the dark, I could protect him."

"Are you and Steve...?" he trails off, licking his bottom lip.

"He's my friend. I care about him," she says, shaking her head. "But we're not...it's not like that."

"Why did you stay? Why not tell Steve where I am?" he asks.

Kate pauses. She takes a sip of whisky, sets her glass down, and looks him straight in his eyes. "Because I fell in love with you."

Bucky is quiet for a time. "After everything you know about me?" he finally asks.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Kate shrugs. "Because I got to know you – not as Steve's best friend or as Sergeant Barnes or as the Winter Soldier, but as you, just you. You're a good man, Bucky."

Bucky sets his own glass down and stands. Kate thinks he's going to leave, but instead he pulls her to her feet and wraps his arms around her.

"Say it again," he says, looking into her eyes.

"What?"

"That you love me."

Kate smiles. "I love you."

He doesn't say it back, not yet. He wants to, but first he wants to enjoy this moment. So, he presses his lips against hers and tries to convey everything he feels in one kiss.

_____

“What do you remember?” Kate asks.

They're lying naked in her bed, her head on his chest and his arms tight around her.

“Everything. Nothing. It comes back in flashes. The memories sometimes feel like they belong to someone else," he says. “I have nightmares. About the things I’ve done. But not when I'm with you."

She smiles. "I sleep better with you, too."

He turns his head to look down at her.

“I have this dream, sometimes, about the night my parents died. There’s a man standing outside the car window. He’s dressed in all black, but I can’t see his face. All I can see is his chest in a leather tactical jacket and then a flash of silver." She's quiet for a moment before she says, "I was three when it happened so it's not like it's a real memory, just some figment of my imagination to help cope with the trauma. At least, that's what my therapist said."

Bucky is quiet.

Stark. Howard Stark. The super soldier serum he stole. Siberia. The memory hits Bucky like a freight train.

The Winter Soldier stands beside the wreck of the Starks' car. Howard begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help." The Soldier pulls him up by his hair and stares at his bloodied face. A look of recognition crosses Howard's face. "Sergeant Barnes?" he groans. The woman in the passenger seat is calling for her husband. The Soldier strikes the man in the head, smashing his skull open. He pulls him up and places him in the driver's seat, then walks around the side of the car. The woman is crying. The Soldier kills her, as well. As he pulls his hand away from her throat, he sees the child in the backseat of the car. He pauses. The order calls for no witnesses. She's staring at him, her eyes wide. He turns away.

Fuck, Bucky thinks. He needs to tell Kate the truth. But when he focuses on the soft rhythm of her heartbeat, he doesn't think he has it in her to break that heart. Not right now. He decides the truth can wait. He knows it's selfish, not telling her, but maybe he's always been a little selfish.

So, instead of telling her that he was there that night, that he killed her parents, he turns on his side to face her and traces his fingers over the bruises forming on her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “It was a reasonable reaction.”

"No, it wasn't. I hurt you."

"Make it up to me," Kate says, and she reaches for him.

Bucky slides his hands from Kate's neck over her collarbone and breasts and down to her waist. He rolls them so he's hovering above her. He reaches back up to wrap a stray curl around his finger before letting it go, then presses his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Kate," he says.

She smiles. "I love you, too, Bucky."

Bucky groans as he slides inside of her. Kate's eyes fall shut, and he studies the look of bliss on her face.

"Look at me," he whispers, moving against her slowly.

When she does, she's caught in the depths of his eyes, his pupils blown wide, the smallest sliver of blue visible around black. "I love you," she says again.

Bucky pushes himself onto his knees and shifts Kate's hips upward. "Put your legs up," he says, reaching for her calves and placing her ankles on his shoulders. "Good girl," he murmurs, his hands sliding beneath her knees. Kate moans at the change in position. Bucky turns his head and kisses her right ankle, laving his tongue over the soft skin.

“Say my name, doll," he demands, reaching between them to stroke her.

“James,” she breathes.

He’s taken by the sound of his given name on her lips, and his hips stutter. "Fuck," he groans, and the tight coil of pleasure in his lower belly snaps. Bucky moves through it, keeps his fingers on Kate until she's coming, and then collapses next to her, sighing.

"I love you," he whispers. And he takes her hand in his and holds it over his own frantic heartbeat.

_____

When Kate wakes the next morning, Bucky is gone. There's a note on the nightstand in his neat script.

Gone to the market. Back soon, doll. Don't move.

She smiles and stretches. When she reaches for her phone, she sees a news alert that makes her heart stop: Winter Soldier wanted for UN Bombing in Vienna.

She texts Steve.

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next chapter

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner O/S: A Grievous Burden

Summary: Post Sokovia Steve struggles to deal with the deep routed effects Wanda’s magic has on his mind as once more his dreams become haunted with the ghosts of his past.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, angst, night terrors...

A/N: As part of SSB’s Birthday celebrations I decided to publish this little one shot/drabble which sits between Ch 24- Like The Old Man Said...Together, and Ch 25- All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go.

Steve Rogers was no stranger to bad dreams. But his recurring nightmares had been a thing of the past, certainly since he’d started sleeping next to Katie at night. Her presence comforted him, allowed him to sleep for the most peacefully. But ever since getting back from Sokovia both Katie and Steve had been plagued by bad dreams. Katie’s seemed to be less vivid, mostly centred around the moment she had thought their time was up until Fury had shown up, but Steve’s subconscious for some reason didn’t seem to take him anywhere near Sokovia. Instead, he was catapulted back in time to various points during the war. It was unnerving for him but mostly, they were just that, bad dreams...until one night, for the first time he could remember, he suffered a full scale hallucinating night terror. 

The first Katie knew of it was when he was pinning her down against the mattress and shielding her from something.

"Steve." she said gently. Nothing, he simply flattened himself against her further, right arm curled around her head.

"Stay down," he ordered firmly.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, still coming round from the sleep he had roused her from.

"Air strike, men in the hall.”  He said, turning to her "I'll head for the door, cause a distraction. You get to the bathroom, get in the tub, cover your head."

She listened intently, then realised what he had said. Air Strike. He must have been dreaming he was back in the war again. She let out a breath and relaxed, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

"Stevie, nobody's there. Everything's quiet."

"You can't hear them?" he looked at her frowning.

"Sweetheart, do you trust me?" she asked.

He nodded. “With my life, you know this Katie...”

"Ok, well, I promise you - there's no air raid, nobody in the hall."

For a moment, Steve just stared at her, his face wracked with confusion. Then, swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. After a moment he raised his head to look around before his face fell back on hers as her thumbs gently moved in long arcs down the sides of his face.

"Steve?"

With a shuddering breath, he pulled himself up, reaching for his shield by the bedroom door. Picking it up he listened for a moment before throwing the door open and he walked out into the hallway. Katie sat in bed listening to the sound of various other doors being opened and shut as he meticulously swept the whole of their floor, checking windows and closets until he ended up back in their room.

His back and chest were both glistening with sweat. He looked at her, his eyes wide before he went into the en-suite and she heard the tap running and the sound of water being splashed against what she assumed was his face. She gave him a few minutes before she followed him, where he was stood leaning forward, forehead pressed to the mirror, chest and shoulders heaving.

“Stevie…” she said gently, as she slipped both her arms round his waist, pressing a kiss to his bare, clammy shoulder. Her touch seemed to do the trick as he took one deep breath and turned to face her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked his eyes looking at her as the palms of her hands spread across his lower back.

"Of course not." she said, shaking her head.

He wrapped his arms around her and she lay her head on his chest and felt his heartbeat as it gradually evened out. Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Your dreams… they’re getting worse." Katie said gently.

“It'll get better," he finally managed. “You know it's been bad before. It will fade after a while."

Katie knew from experience that everyone dealt with traumatic experiences differently. For example, Tony suffered panic attacks and went completely off the rails post both his soiree in the Afghanistan cave and New York. She tended to take a lot of things as they came and worry about them for a while but after screaming and crying would then give herself a kick up the ass to either change things or deal with them. Steve’s worry seemed to manifest itself two fold. He would either be suffering from the inability to stay calm and therefore would exercise, pounding out frustrations on either the pavement or the punching bags. And then there was this, the nightmares. Normally Katie would wake with his jostling but if she didn’t, he would always shake her awake if he needed her, as that was the agreement they had. She would then help him back to sleep either by talking or they would engage in some other un-coventional means of therapy until both of them were spent and satiated enough to return to slumber.

Katie gently took his hand and led him out of the bathroom turning off the light. As they reached the bed he waited until she was in it, pulling the duvet up over her before snagging a pillow and turning to go.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He shrugged. "Thought I'd camp out on the couch. I don't want to keep you awake."

“No way…” she said, throwing back the duvet “Come on.”

He sighed and climbed in as she opened her arms for him to settle his head on her chest, gently stroking his hair as he swallowed, his breathing steadying as her touch soothed him.

"Where were you this time?" she asked

"Azzano… I think” he sighed “To be honest with you, I saw so many things, the dreams now…they all blur into one.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He took a deep breath “It was just loud, and I was in a building and I couldn’t get out. It was so real. When I woke up I knew where I was. I knew who you were, but I just…I dunno…”

They lay in silence, Katie continually stroking his hair as he nuzzled into her closer. She kissed the top of his head and was pleased when about 10 minutes later she heard his breathing start to lower and his head became heavy. He had managed to drift off.

*****

The next night he woke with a start, but that was it. There was no walking or hallucinating, he merely woke from a bad dream and climbed out of bed for a glass of water. When he came back, there was no talking, but he sought solace in his girl in another way, his lips kissing her hard, his hands reaching out and roving over every bit of her body he could find and he fucked her, hard, losing himself completely. They lay afterwards, sweaty foreheads pressed together and Katie simply held him close as they both came round. Eventually he moved off, pulled her to him and they fell asleep, limbs tanged around one another, his hold tight.

The next few nights he was peaceful, and Katie was hopeful that the terrors had passed, but then, four nights after the first incident he broke his hand.

Captain America could put his fist through a two-by-four with nothing worse than slightly reddened knuckles - but Steve Rogers’  hand hadn't been in a fist. Katie had woken to his hoarse cry of “Buck!!!”, in time to see his outstretched, fingers slamming straight through the plasterboard and into a metal stud in the wall as he flailed out of bed, reaching for a man who had fallen some seventy years earlier.

Katie scrambled over the bed like a shot as he was yelling out for Bucky again and again as he knelt among scattered pieces of plaster and wood, his left arm buried inside the wall up to the shoulder.

"Steve," she tried, but he didn't respond, eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare, face crumpled with an agony that was more than physical, breath hitching and ragged. She felt the tears spring into her eyes and she was just about to ask FRIDAY to send Tony to help when she heard the door to their penthouse burst open and a few moments later Thor strode into the bedroom dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, hammer in his hand.

“I heard the Captain yell, and…” he trailed off as he took in the situation at a glance and then crouched next to Katie.

“He’s dreaming…” she said gently, “He’s dreaming about Bucky, his friend, falling…”

Thor frowned absently, brushing his fingers across the captain's temples as though he was trying to work out a problem. Then abruptly, he rose and was gone, moving almost silently through the darkness.

Whilst he was gone Katie managed to gently work Steve’s arm out of the wall. His broken hand lay twitching in her lap and she was horribly aware that they would need to set the bones before they healed wrong. Thankfully, Thor wasn’t gone long, and he was not alone when he returned, hand firm around Wanda's shoulder. The girl's eyes were wide and her hair was tangled - obviously she had been sleeping.

"Thor," Katie began to protest as she glanced round at Steve. The last thing he would want would be to come back to reality in the middle of some kind of impromptu party.

Thor held up a hand, pausing her even as he turned his full attention to Wanda

"Do you see?" he asked gravely. "Do you understand now what The Vision told you?"

Trembling, Wanda shook her head even as she went to her knees beside Steve. He was still unresponsive, but his breathing was beginning to laboriously even out and Katie knew he was fighting for control. She started to sweep her hand up and down his back in long, firm strokes in the hope it would bring him back round.

Thor knelt too, sounding as though he were some kind of instructor. "When you allowed Stark's fears to work against him," he began patiently, "you found his weakness and dug deep."

Wanda nodded slowly.

"Our Captain carries a grievous burden as well," Thor continued, "He has been sorely wounded and works to heal, but your incautious workings have torn his memories open."

“Thor…” Katie said gently as a horror stricken look crossed Wanda’s face.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know. How can I fix it?"

For the first time, Thor hesitated. "My brother would have known," he admitted in a low voice. "He had the skill, when it pleased him to use it." He paused again, and then continued, hesitating slightly. "You must consider carefully, and proceed as seems good to you."

Biting her lip, Wanda looked up at Katie, her stricken eyes locked onto hers.

“If you can, remind him where he is," Katie said gently. “Just bring him round?”

Hesitantly, uncertainly, Wanda pointed and curled her fingers before Steve’s face and closed her eyes. Tendrils of red light flickered from her hands to his temples, and Katie tensed involuntarily. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Steve’s eyes flew open, and his uninjured hand darted up faster than sight to lock around Wanda's wrist, breaking the connection. She squeaked, startled, and froze.

“Steve…” Katie touched his arm causing him to flinch. It took him a second and then he seemed to realize where he was and what was going on. He let go of Wanda's wrist, and looked around at Katie, then Thor hovering behind the young Sokovian, and finally the familiar surroundings of their bedroom. Eventually he looked back at Wanda for a long moment before nodding once.

"Thanks."

A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I tried to put everything back in place, but I don't know how."

"Can't fix everything," he assured her, with a twisted smile. His old Brooklyn accent came out very strong in this unguarded moment. "And I wouldn't wantcha t' try. There's things in my head you shouldn't ever hafta see."

Wanda wrapped both her arms around herself. Her eyes still looked haunted. "He was like your brother, wasn't he?" she quavered.

Steve bowed his head as Thor dropped a gentle arm round her shoulders.

"We have all lost brothers," he rumbled, looking at her. "We know your pain. You do not face this alone."

Katie could feel Steve was quivering, exhausted beyond words though he wouldn't show it for the world, and all she wanted to do in that moment was to bind up his hand and then put him to bed. As she looked up to suggest to the others they might want to go she was surprised to see Wanda had squared her jaw with determination and she reached out once more.

"I can fix this, at least."

Steve's hurt hand suddenly glowed with red fire. He jumped, surprised, and then watched with fascination as the crooked fingers began re-align themselves. When the bones were straight again, the fire flickered out, and Wanda staggered to her feet to go, Thor right behind her.

“You ok for a moment?” Katie asked Steve and he nodded. She followed the two of them into the hall and gave a short groan as she saw the door that led to the stairs (which were never used) had been completely kicked off its hinges.

“Sorry.” Thor said, picking up the heavy door “I heard the screams and…well, I didn’t know what was going on.” “Just prop it up as best you can…I’ll let you out in the elevator.”

He propped it up, and dragged the sofa over towards it for good measure.

“I really am sorry…” Wanda whispered, tears in her eyes.

“I know, and so does he.” Katie said, giving her a hug. “He will be fine…” Her attention then turned to Thor as she gave the God a hug. “Thank you.” “Any time Little Stark.” He breathed into her hair, before the 2 of them stepped into the elevator.

Katie looked around, trying to think about how they could explain a broken door plus a hole in the wall to Tony, then she realised she didn’t care. She headed into the kitchen, rummaging through the first aid kit for an elastic bandage to keep his fingers straight and wrapped up safely whilst his fast healing worked its magic.

He was sat on the side of the bed when she re-entered the room, his injured hand cradled in his other.

“Here…” she said, and she gently took his hand as he surrendered to her ministrations.

“Is Wanda ok?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, but I’m more concerned about you.” she said, laying his hand down gently onto my lap. “Baby…” “I’m sorry.” He said softly, laying his head against hers.

“What for?” “This…for scaring you?” “Stop it.” She said sternly “I love you, you idiot, I just want you to be ok.” “I will be…” he smiled softly, his lips catching hers “Given time.”

The next day, Katie dragged Steve out for a walk in Central Park, but first she spoke to Tony about the door and the wall. He was surprisingly sympathetic, and didn’t mention the issue to Steve once. By the time Steve and Katie returned home that afternoon both were fixed, the only evidence any repairs had taken place was the smell of fresh paint and plaster which lingered in the apartment for a few days. What thankfully didn’t linger were Steve’s night terrors. Katie didn’t know what it was that Wanda did, but his bones healed straight and it seemed that his mind had healed somewhat straight too. Whilst he persisted with the odd bad dream, they were getting less and less frequent, and there was no repeat of the two hallucinations he had suffered which was a relief to her, as she knew with time and patience and rest, the dreams would stop as well.

[cake-writes]

Compromise (Interlude #2)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Part Seven / Master List / Spotify Playlist

Bucky woke to a sudden crack of thunder and the sound of rain pelting a rapid cadence against the windows. A summer storm – a stark contrast to such a beautiful Sunday, but the house was eerily silent.

He quickly discovered why.

Winnie’s bed was too warm, too welcoming, because she was curled up on one side of him and you were fast asleep on the other – pinned against him with his arm around your waist.

Oh.

The breath caught in his throat at the realization that he’d dragged you into bed with him. He must have; you wouldn’t have been lying here otherwise. You wouldn’t have chosen to, not in a million years.

You had boundaries.

Boundaries he hadn’t respected.

While his were more for show, he always tried to respect yours. This time, he hadn’t, and it bothered him – horrified him, if he was being honest, so much that his grip immediately went slack.

The bedside lamp was still on, warm yellow light illuminating your features so beautifully that he just couldn’t look away. His eyes traced every single one: the perpetual dark circles under your eyes, the slight part of your lips as you slept so soundly despite the fact that he’d trapped you here. Flaws, but he didn’t consider them to be. The delicate rise and fall of your chest with each breath. The softness of your body against his. The way your leg was thrown over his so casually, reminiscent of the past.

God, you were gorgeous.

What caught him off guard was that your brows furrowed at the sudden lack of contact, and you pressed closer to him, cheek to his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

It made his heart ache. He missed this – missed you. Over two years later, and he still needed you. He still wanted you. He still loved you.

A pipe dream.

Flesh fingertips brushed a few stray hairs from your forehead, skin softening under his touch, crease between your brows dissipating almost instantly. 

He tried not to read too much into it. An easy task to be sure, because he was too caught up in his own thoughts.

Why did he still feel this way?

Bucky found himself wishing that things could go back to the way they used to be. He’d make more of an effort this time. Lord knows he tried back then, but his insecurities got the best of him. He wasn’t worthy of your love, or of Winnie’s, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve to be happy. 

Somehow, he found happiness anyway. And then he ruined it.

He ruined it because he was afraid – afraid that you’d wake up one day and realize what a mistake you’d made, afraid that he’d finally let you in and you’d realize what a terrible person he really was. A murderer. An assassin. Blood stained his hands – serum-enhanced and vibranium weapons – but the only thing on yours was the faint scent of coffee.

His very fears became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Ironic.

And then there was Winnie. His daughter. His little girl. Innocent and incorruptible, but with him as a father that wouldn’t last long. It couldn’t.

So he ran.

He went on too many missions to count, to prevent that from happening. He kept his distance – kept his heart locked in a box, even though you’d given him yours on a silver platter. He kept you at arm’s length. Never let you get too close. Never gave himself the chance to ruin you, let alone his innocent baby girl. Never let either of you see that he was already broken beyond repair.

When you finally ended it, it came as a relief – at least until he realized how alone that made him feel. He hadn’t expected the agony of coming home to an empty apartment, an empty life, an empty nest. Crib and cradle gone – moved three hours upstate, as far away from him as you could possibly go without crossing state lines, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

No, the custody battle was a special brand of hell. You went for the jugular. He saw a side of you he’d never seen before – pure, unbridled spite and a viciousness that rivalled that of The Soldier. He would have rather faced the European Theater again, rather faced Hydra again than fight with you.

Trials and tribulations through and through. In between his court proceedings on Capitol Hill, he stood in another courtroom, too – one with you less than six feet away, where tried to defend himself and his actions for the umpteenth time in hopes that you’d give him a shred of something he had no right to have.

One visit per month with his daughter.

That was all he got, and at first he thought it was enough. More than enough, because he didn’t deserve it to begin with. Even though the visits were supervised, he was grateful. Even though you didn’t trust him, he was content.

For a while.

Then it wasn’t, and it hurt. It was all his fault to begin with, but it hurt. He’d been too afraid to see what was right in front of him until it was gone – until it was too late to make amends, and you and Winnie were living your best lives without him.

The visits were an uphill battle, too, with him fighting against the deepest recesses of his mind but he tried. God, he tried, but he missed so many of them. By immersing himself in his work, by trying to make amends for all of his misdeeds, he was able to forget his misery for a little while.

And then you’d text him, and he’d remember.

Don’t bother coming, you’re three hours late.

We have shit to do, Bucky. Thanks for making us wait around for you, like always.

Your daughter really loves it when you don’t show. She’s crying, Bucky. Well done.

Nasty, terrible digs at him, but he deserved them. He internalized them, and he didn’t put up a fight. He made the two of you suffer over and over again until something finally changed in him. 

He still didn’t think he deserved to be happy, but he didn’t want either of you to suffer anymore.

So he tried harder. He pushed for recruitment, for new Avengers, and with that came a change of hours. He’d be stateside more often than not. He’d be around, especially after the move to the compound.

Natasha helped him pick out the décor.

Steve helped him adjust to a smaller workload.

It wasn’t until then that Bucky finally had the nerve to talk to you about it. He didn’t want to show up unannounced at your home, especially because Winnie would be there and he didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of her. So, instead, he went to your workplace. The conversation didn’t go as planned; his words came out more as a demand than a request, and he could tell by the hard look in your eyes that you weren’t pleased.

But you acquiesced for him. Always for him, and he loathed how much he loved that you did.

Looking at you now, he still didn’t know why you were so kind to him. A spitfire, absolutely, especially when it came to Winnie, but he loved that about you. He loved that you were so sweet and giving, even when he didn’t deserve it. He loved that you were willing to compromise, even though he’d forced your hand about visitation, about custody.

And you gave in about other things, too. The car. An olive branch, perhaps.

He wasn’t sure whose.

Slowly, gently, Bucky pulled himself out of bed and lifted you into his arms – did his best not to disturb you or Winnie. He knew you’d have to work in the morning, and she’d have preschool. He wanted you to get enough rest, and sharing a bed with your daughter wasn’t the best thing for that, even if she was so small.

You deserved the world. You deserved everything, and so did she.

Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest at the familiar feeling of you in his arms – so soft and sweet and absolutely perfect. Unfortunately, he only managed to reach the hallway when you stirred with a groggy whisper, “What’s going on?”

“Just taking you to bed, sweetheart,” he answered, keeping his voice low to suit the late hour. “Go back to sleep.”

You let out soft sound of acknowledgement, then, and the sleepy smile you gave him caught him off-guard, but not as much as when you snuggled closer to him – rest your forehead against his shoulder as he opened the door to your bedroom. 

Your breathing went steady and even before he even lay you down on your bed, but when he did, you didn’t let him go. Your delicate arms were wrapped snugly around his neck, which he was able to pry away easily enough, but you let out some incomprehensible grumble at the action just like you used to do.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

He pulled the sheets over you and pressed a kiss to your forehead – too familiar, he realized after the fact, but he didn’t freeze up until you mumbled sleepily, “Love you.”

Sweet words followed by a soft snore.

With his heart hammering inside of his chest, Bucky switched off the light.

When you woke up the next morning, everything was in its place – doors locked, lights off, two lunches packed. The third was gone, and so was he.

For an entire week, your calls and texts went unanswered. Things were the same as before. Nothing had changed – except everything had.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Part Eight

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #12

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/34123603

{whatever it is a scar rememebers}

Ships: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, smoking, swearing, mentions of canon typical violence. it's a fluff piece tho :)

“She’s just a little girl. Come on Buck, we have to help her,” Sam said, cuddling into Bucky’s side. “Sam, she’s, she’s our enemy.” “That depends on how you view it.” “Come on.” “Buck, please. She is just trying to make a statement. She hasn’t done any real bad yet.” “Yet, Sammy, see how you said yet. You know how much she is capable of.” “Yes, without our help and guidance. She’s just, just lost.” “I will always back you. Always. It’s not me you need to worry about.” “This is our mission. We get to decide how it gets done, the other avengers have their own.” “That’s directly ignorant of the fact we all need to sign off on mission plans. That’s the deal, that’s why we get to operate in our wide jurisdiction.”“Baby, step back. Look at this for real.” “I know Sammy, I swear. She’s just a girl, and you’ve always had more compassion than me. So convince all the Avengers and I will follow you wherever.” “I’m putting together the mission plan, and I will get it signed.” “Good. Now, can we please go to sleep.” “Yes. Love you.’ “Love you more.”The next morning when they awoke, Sam did not bother waking for Bucky to wake up. Naturally, when Bucky did wake he reached over for Sam and did not find him. Bucky panicked, they had fallen into an unbreakable routine. Sam would always wait up for him. What had happened to his boy? “Friday, is Sam okay?” he asked, panicked. “Yes, he is just on a run with steve. He asked me to inform you that he was planning to get Steve to sign first.” “Oh, oh, thanks Fri,” he said, and then under his breath muttered, “I’m going to kill him.” “Kill who?” Sam said, entering all sweaty. “Samuel Thomas Wilson, how dare you?” Buck said, only half joking. “What baby?” “I woke up without you next to me.” “Had things to do sweetheart,” Sam explained, changing into some sweatpants and a hoodie. “More important than cuddling me.” “Unfortunately so,” he said, putting deodorant on. “You're supposed to say nothing is more important than you.” “Buck, cut the melodramatics.” “Sam, you stole my morning cuddles from me. That is a serious offense.” Sam climbed back into bed and pulled bucky in. “You okay now?” “Yes.” “Got all the Avengers signatures.” Bucky just smiled. Sam and his determination. “When do we leave?” “Two days time. Flight out at 8 O’clock in the morning. We got intel Karli will be stationed in Latvia.” “Okay, guess we’re going then.” “Yes we are.”Somehow they ended up with Karli in custody, and as negotiated by Sam, she would be staying in the compound under his guidance, following a strict routine each day. “So, in the morning you will be woken at 8 am sharp. Breakfast is from 8-8:30, then your school day starts. School is from 8:30 till 2 Monday through Friday. After that there will be therapy for an hour. After that you have training for 2 hours. Any additional activities you wish to take can be negotiated.” “Sounds like hell,” she commented. “Hey it’s either this or prison, pick your poison.” “Oh how I wish it were poison. What does training mean?” “Learning to fight with control and releasing your anger.” “Sounds alright.” “Good.” “And I’m off the hook anytime after 5?” “Yes. Free to do what you wish on the compound. You’ve been fitted with a GPS, that’s the bracelet, and so you can’t really leave.” “Is this legal?” “Yes, very. Oh and you’re required to be at dinner, whatever time that may take place.” “Dinner?” “Avengers are a family, and we have family dinners. Sort of.” “That’s uncomfortable.” “Get used to it.” “No thanks.” “You need help getting settled in?” “Nope.”It was her third day and it was 8 in the morning and she was being woken up. “JUST FUCK OFF YOU STUPID MACHINE,” she yelled. Bucky almost instantly showed up at her door. “Aren't you supposed to be awake right now?” “Everyone needs to fuck the hell off before I beat the shit out of you.” “Alright girlie, calm down. I’m a super soldier too ya know.” “What the hell.” “Take a chill pill.” “Did you really just say that?” “Yes. Now what is going on? Use your big girl words.” “I swear to god.” “What?” “Everything is so goddamn structured

here. Family dinners are so awkward. Therapy is downright stupid, and school, school just sucks.” “Fair enough. It’s your own fault though.” “Huh?” “Shouldn’t have gone for the whole terrorist vibe. Anyway, the more days you complete, the more freedom you get. We have some kids in the compound. Get to know them, they’re a good time. Especially Peter. They have their own thing, and they have a good time together.” “Are you actually dumb? They don’t want to be my friend.” “On the contrary. Most of them understand youth discussion and want to make the world a better place.” “Everyone here is so nice, what the fuck. You’re supposed to hate me.” “I’ve done enough hating for a lifetime. Plus, everyone here is supposed to hate me, too. Turns out that’s not how it works. I’ve become a big brother, a boyfriend, a friend. They make you better, just let them. Let Sam. He really does care about you kid, he put in a real shift to get you here. He gets it.” “I-” “Don’t worry about words. Get ready for school, see you at breakfast a bit, yeah?” “Yeah.” she said hesitantly.Bucky went back into his and Sam’s room. “To think you said you were bad with kids.” “I- eavesdropper.” “More like an attentive listener.” “I just told her what she needed to hear.” “You made yourself vulnerable to make her feel less vulnerable.” “Sure, whatever.” Sam leant into Bucky for a kiss, glad to have him backing his plays. Always.After some time, Karli was seemingly getting the hang of this whole new life. She was saying more than a word per day, actually doing the work assigned to her, and finally she was speaking to some people around the compound. “Hey Karli, how’s the day?” Peter said, swinging round to the gym she was training at. “Yeah alright. How ‘about you spiderboy?” “Heyyyy it’s man.” “Sure, sure.’ “It was fine, too. Pretty easy to be honest.” “You’ve got to help me get this maths shit sorted.” “Wanna head to the lab?” “Gotta finish up two hours, almost done though.” “Haven’t you got a trainer?” “Yeah, used to. Prefer doing it alone, sparing with you and nat on occasion.” “Makes sense. Never liked the guy to be fair.” “See you in the lab in 20?” “Sure thing. Bring your books.” “Alright,” she said, and Peter began to leave. “Hey Peter.” “Yep?” “Thanks, really. For all of this.” “Course, your family now, aren't ya.” Karli just smiled. Then, once Peter had left, she let the few tears that were welling up fall.“Dinner’s in 10,” Sam said, entering the lab. “Fanks Sam.” “Yup.” “What do you think it is?” “One can only hope Loki cooked.” “Hmn. And that Doctor Banner didn’t.” Peter laughed then agreed. “We should go up and help with the set up,” Karli suggested. “Yeah sounds good. I’ll meet you up there, just gotta finish this blueprint” “See ya mate.” “See ya.”So, Karli was settling into her new life with her new people. It was scary. She wasn’t used to being cared for and looked after. If she drank too much one night, no one would care. If she smokes, no one gives a crap. If she never did her homework, it didn’t matter. Those things took some getting used to.“No, it is a big deal.” “It was a drunk night, come off of it Sam.” “Come off of it? What do you think this is?” “What? I’m legal in England, drunk all the time before.” “This ain’t before anymore. Plus, you are not legal in England, you’re seventeen.” “Yeah, I can get a drink at a pub with a parent's consent,” Karli muttered, fighting a meaningless battle. “Well you don’t have that consent.” “Good thing I don’t have a parent,” she rolled her eyes. “Come on kid! It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a parent, you have a family. A family that cares a lot about you. They don’t want you to drink to be happy or smoke and get yourself cancer. How hard is that to understand?” “We ain’t a family.” “What are we then? Last time I check we qualify for a stupid, messed up, family.” “Just fuck off about it,” she said, trying to end the conversation. “Why? Why Karli? Because it’s so hard to imagine that we love you and value you in our lives.” “Yes! All that shit!” “Oh for fuck sake. Bucky, then Steve, fucking

Peter, you’re all the same.” “What are you on about?” “You don’t think you deserve it.” “I-i-” “You don’t think you are good enough for all this.” “Cause I’m not! I’m not like you guys, I’m not good. I’m not a hero.” “Why? Because you were a kid and you made some dumbass mistakes. Because you’re more a pessimist than an optimist. Last time I checked, that does not make you a bad person.” “Whatever.” “Not whatever Karli. You did and do want to help people, that makes you a hero.” “Not how I did it.” “Maybe not. But how you are doing and how you will do it. That does. And none of that shit matters anyway, you belong here, with us. In this family. And you, more than anyone, deserve it.” “Fine.” “Fine?” “Yes, alright. Thank you,” Karli said, finally smiling, “Don’t get all sappy on me.” “Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.” “I love ya.” “I love you, too,” he said, giving her a hug. “We done with this self-hate thing?” “Workin on it, alright?” “Alright.” So, Sam left with a smile and headed downstairs to get some actual work done.

Read and save it here on A03 https://archiveofourown.org/works/34123603.

*Also this was posted many days late and it's deffo not a friday, sorry :)

[marvelatthehottotties]

Steven Grant Rogers - Chapter 1

Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol use, bit of angst, bit of fluff.

Masterpost Prologue

Co-authored by @keliza

Masterpost

He was long and lanky. He’d been slow to grow right up until our senior year of high school. Junior year he’d left for the summer and in just three short months it seemed like he’d sprouted right up into the 6’2” bean pole. 

You’d always liked Steve. Most girls gravitated towards Bucky, the well off, naturally charming mechanic that Steve was connected at the hip with. Not you. 

It was always Steve, with his gentle blue eyes and his kind smile. Just once you wanted to know what it felt like to hold his hand or how he’d kiss. 

You always imagined he kissed like John Thorton at the end of North and South. How many times had you fantasized that he brushed his hand over your skin and breath a little breath to blow away your insecurities like he had with his sketchbook. 

You’d glanced once to see what he drew. Mostly doodles, but once, you’d seen a face. One that broke your heart. Ms. Carter. Your senior lit teacher. He drew her in such a lovely way there was no doubt to his affections for her. And how could you ever compete with someone as fierce and intelligent as Ms. Peggy Carter.

You tended to shy away from him for the most part. Usually too worried about being a nuisance to really try to hold a conversation with him. You were honestly surprised to go see him go to school. He came from a poor family, you knew his mother was sick. It made your heart ache to watch him go through what you did. 

Then it happened. 

Sarah Rogers passed away and he was devastated. So was Bucky if you were being completely honest. He and Steve were like brothers, and towards the end of high school he lived with them, right around the time his dad cut him off. You put everything aside. You went to Bucky and asked if there was anything you could do to help. You did a fundraiser to help raise money for her funeral, they didn’t have health insurance, let alone life insurance. Steve tried to deny the help at first but he slowly opened up. 

Somehow you ended up even more in love with Steve than before. It wasn’t hard. Bucky teased you in private about your crush on the little dork who never backed down from a fight. Now here you were, about ready to finish up your senior year with your two best friends. Ready to graduate, to flee the nest. 

The music was so loud in the backyard it was hard to hear right next to the speaker. But thankfully you didn’t have to stay by the speaker. You saw the blond hair that you’d spot from anywhere. The hair your eyes always searched for. It was habitual now. 

You break into a grin at seeing him. He smiles back. His gentle, amused smile that says he’s feeling a bit mischievous tonight. It’s so distracting you aren’t prepared to be lifted off your feet. Letting out a squeal of terror, you kick your feet. “BUCKY! PUT ME DOWN!”

“Down you say?” 

“Don’t you dare!” You meet Steve’s eyes just as you leave Bucky’s arms. Time slows as you see the grin break out of Steve’s face. You inhale as fast as this slowed time allows you to. The water is warm when you hit it. No guarantee it would be when you climb out. Of course, there was nothing like seeing that twinkle in his eye. 

Time stayed slow under that water. Bubbles surged around you, when it cleared you gazed about the pool. Red solo cups had sunk to the bottom of the pool. There was a pretty pink bra near the bottom as well. A few glow stick bracelets shined from the bottom as well and legs kicked about. A couple guys were wrestling near the other side. 

Why was water always so comforting? You wonder idly, listening to the dull noise of music filter through the water. It was so soft and quiet.

You just wanted to stay down here, to float. It sounds morbid. 

When the blond appeared above the ripples of the water, you forgot about the water and pushed off the bottom of the pool, surging up to break the surface of the pool. “You’re an accomplice, you know?” You hum to him. He chuckles at you, hands stuffed in the pockets of the pants he couldn’t fill out yet. 

“That only counts if I knew about it beforehand,” he replies. You shoot Bucky a hard look, but not too hard. You could never mask your true feelings to them. Instead you just soften into a grin and giggle. 

“You’re dead, Barnes.” He smiles as Steve holds out a hand to help you out of the water.

“Sure, sure.”

“Been here long?” Steve asks you.

“About ten minutes. Thankfully I left my phone in my car.” 

“I tried to call you,” he replies, with a shrug. “Explains why you didn’t answer.” 

Wringing out your hair, “To repent, you gotta get me a drink, Buck.”

“Haven’t gotten one yet?” Bucky asks.

“Nah, was waiting for my body guards so I could feel extra special.” 

“Oh, in that case, I’ll get the princess a drink.” He gives a dramatic bow and then turns to head inside to where the jungle juice lay. Leaving you with Steve. 

“To the balcony?” You ask.

“Sounds good.”

There was an ease about being with Steve, one that wasn’t there before. He made things easier. Made things better. There was no doubt that you loved Steve, even if he wasn’t for you. How you longed to be his muse like Ms. Carter was. He was like dawn on a winter morning, long awaited. He was warm sunshine melting the snow. He was a necessity. You’d prayed so many nights that you could be good enough for him, but you weren’t sure. God could be so cruel.

Soon, you both had made your ways onto the balcony. Exactly where you always went when Tony Stark threw parties at his parents house. He’d moved across the country after high school to go to school at MIT. A smart kid, he’d gone from quiet, like he couldn’t bother with anyone, to a cocky asshole. His parties were statement pieces. Tradition in our little town. There wasn’t much to do besides parties around here. Steve wasn’t a big fan, you knew. 

He’d much rather be at home, drawing memories of his mother. A heart breaking experience for you. This at least got him out. Once he even participated in one of those games. Bucky had talked him into playing the game with cards. Where you have to pass the card by lips alone. It had been Bucky’s plan to get Steve to kiss you. 

It had not worked. 

He’d hoped you’d both finally be able to admit feelings. But it hadn’t worked. Steve ended up locking lips with another girl. Not just once. The girl had spent the night kissing Steve exactly how you’d imagined to kiss, delicate, savory. His hands, brushing hair from her cheeks like she was a flower. At some point you couldn’t take it anymore. You shuffled away, looking for some relief from the awful pain of seeing someone else on him. 

You found it, alright. 

Clawing at some strangers back, hiding your tears and regretting the next never ending weeks. Hating that those hands weren’t Steve’s. The guy, who’s name you didn’t care enough to get didn’t have soft blonde hair, his hands were too soft. He didn’t smell like him. The whole thing took way too long to recover from. It took almost six months for you to even meet Steve’s eyes like you used too.

Now, you both pretended nothing happened. It had been erased like a nightmare fading after waking. 

But dreams still came. You never expected to be Steve’s number one. His number two, maybe his number. When you fell in love with him, a little spot of necrosis began on your heart. It expanded every time you gave yourself hope to be more. You’d settle to dream of him.

There was a recurring one that hurt more than anything else ever had, only because they were so real, you’d forget they weren’t. Waking up to his skin under your fingertips, he’d smile, gentle, free. His fingers black from charcoals, he’d drawn you sleeping, loving the morning light coming through the window. 

You’d once told Bucky you hoped one day you could break away, and love someone else. “One day, I’ll love someone more than him,” you promised. Alas, it wasn’t anytime soon.

“You cold?” Steve asks. As you shiver on the balcony. 

“Hm? Oh, no,” you dismiss. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Here, I’ll get you a blanket, I’m sure the Starks won’t mind.”

“Ah, thanks,” you reply and glance out at the party below. A familiar prickle rose in your gut. Something unsettling. You lean against the edge and ponder. It didn’t seem more than a moment before a voice tore you back, but not completely. There was something, almost like being underwater.

“Sorry, I took so long.” You frown at Steve, throwing a blanket over your trembling shoulder. You weren’t cold though.

“You were only gone a few seconds.” Steve chuckles.

“I suppose. I was gone for almost five minutes.” You shake your head at him, or yourself, you’re not certain. “Maybe you zoned out again,” he suggests.

You didn’t want to worry him, but it happened frequently. “Yeah, probably.”

“Where do you go when that happens?”

“I… There’s this feeling sometimes.” Steve frowns deeper. “It’s almost like the air gets stale… like… I feel like a ghost, Steve. Like I’m not living anymore and I’m just… stuck, just reliving the same moments over and over,” you breathe. “It’s not good or bad or numb… just like I get stuck in these little moments, you know?” Steve doesn’t reply, but he also doesn’t look at you like you’re crazy either.

“Well, you’re not a ghost, (Y/N). You’re alive. More alive than anyone I’ve ever met.” You meet his gaze. You take a moment and nod, reassured for another moment that all was well. 

“Steve?” You ask.

“Yeah?”

“Is it too much to ask you not to leave me, I don’t care if this is dream. But when you get famous for your art, don’t forget about me, okay?”

“A dream?” He repeats. “Why would you ever want to dream about me,” he jokes.

“I’m serious, Steve.” You say, turning and fluttering a hand toward his chest. You hesitate, afraid if you touch him he would crumble into a thousand, thousand butterflies and float away to be gone forever. But when you lay a hand, he doesn’t crumble away like your dreams, instead you stroke the fabric of his collar under your fingertips.

“I would never leave you,” he leans down when you avoid his eyes. Making you meet his eyes, a tiny smile stretching on his handsome face. “‘Till the end of the line, right?”

“Right,” you breathe, like a relief. And suddenly your eyes are holding each other’s and it’s endless. Like one of those moments only you feel very much alive. He’s very close. If you pushed up onto your toes, your lips would meet. Would he want you too?

You could smell him. He smelled like clean sheets and his paints. Like the craft store.

“I got drin- Oh…” Both of you snap your heads. Bucky looked disappointed.

Both you and Steve shifted away from each other quickly, a coolness rising. Dosing us and sending us toward Bucky. The dark haired beauty presses his lips together like he was uncomfortable and heaves a sigh as the both of us took the drinks. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” he sighs into his drink as I shuffle over to the patio furniture with them.

@tomisbaeholland​

[all1e23]

Swallow [Pt.9]

Chapter: Life After You

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Secrets are spilled and old wounds are reopened.

Warnings:  Adulty themes. Yes, I’m a grown-up, and I said adulty themes. General foreboding. Sweet, soft, protective Bucky. (Yes, that’s a warning. That could kill you!) Protective big brother Clint. 

A/N:   It’s the beginning of the end my loves.  Only 4 more parts left! I couldn’t get this part to come out right, but here it is! Music to listen to while you read? Everything Changes by Staind. Send me love because I’m needy.  No beta so read at your own risk. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

There was something dark about the movement within and surrounding the clubhouse. A whispering feeling of dread was filling winds that were rustling the trees surrounding the twenty acres. The distressed, hurried actions made for an unfriendly scene when you pulled into your usual parking space. Everyone was preparing for a storm that had yet to show its face. There was no sign of how they would fair at the end of this, so preparations were for anything possible.

Cold winds or not, no one was going to take the chance.

For an outsider, things appeared to be no different from any other weekend.  A packed clubhouse wasn’t entirely uncommon for a Saturday night. There was always something going on; parties, barbeques, and MC events that never failed to get out of hand. This was unlike all of those times, though. The atmosphere around them hung onerous; there was a heaviness that clung to your skin and stiffness in each breath that made it nearly impossible to breathe.

This was no party. There was nothing to celebrate. Fear was the driving source behind the rushed and tense movements. The dark clouds hovering nearby were crawling closer with each passing seconds and rainfall was imminent. No matter how thoroughly they anticipated every possible outcome, there would be losses this time around that no one could stop.

Those very losses were the reason behind Steve’s frantic declaration that everyone needed to be close by. He needed to be with the club, but he couldn't bear to be away from his family. If something happened to Peggy or his babies, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Peggy and the twins, Henry and Emma, showed up that morning after locking their house down, per Steve’s begging. They were no longer babies, despite Steve’s wishful thinking. Explaining the sleepover to a pair of six-year-olds was not exactly Peggy’s shining moment as a mother. Too many questions she can’t answer. Too much of her own worry colored her words. Steve’s assurances did nothing to quell her uneasiness this time.

All she could do was hold on and hope there would be something left to rebuild when the tempest had passed.

Pepper arrived only a few minutes after you pulled up with Morgan and Peter following close behind her. You haven’t had a chance to meet Morgan, but just from the glimpse you caught as she made her way passed you sat atop Peter’s shoulders, she was without a doubt Tony’s daughter. You met Pepper’s eyes for a flash, but she was frantically trying to get her kids inside.

“Mom, it’s fine,” Peter dropped his arm over her shoulders as they walked through the rising grass. “Nothing is going to happen here. We are all good.” You couldn’t hear what Morgan responded with, but Pepper did not look pleased the look was followed by a sharp, “Tony!”

Pepper didn’t have the same calm demeanor that Peggy did. When she was overwhelmed, it showed. To be fair, she did live with Tony. Thankfully, Peter was by her side to help get their bags together and keep a close, protective eye on Morgan in Tony’s absence.

For a brief moment, when you were young and still innocent enough to believe this life and your love could occupy Bucky’s heart side by side, you had illusions of starting a family with Bucky.  The thought seems so silly now. It was a childish fantasy that was never meant to be a reality.

It was nice to see that some were able to have both.

Your eyes flicked from person to person. Everyone was there but Tony. You figured he has been locked away, eyes glued to those damn blue screens as he tried to figure out who their rat was and keep a close eye any and all movements made by Red Skulls. The thought left you feeling a tad queasy, but you kept moving forward. Natasha watched as you got closer to the front doors. You knew the look. She was disappointed with you, but what else was new? You’ve been in trouble since you came home.

It looked as if you were one of the last to arrive and the expression on everyone’s face, especially Bucky’s, made your chest burn with remorse. He was upset, anxious. From the glimpse at Clint’s face, he wasn’t happy with you either, but you weren’t sure what he was upset about or how much they knew.  

It seemed as if you were about to find out.

“Y/n,” Bucky growled as he advanced towards you. “What the hell happened? I told you how serious this is. You can’t just disappear like that! I thought--” He glanced at Clint and the rest of the group that was standing far too close for Bucky’s liking. The guys were quick to look away at the tremble in Bucky’s voice, but Peggy’s eyes softened a fraction as she ushered everyone but Clint back inside.

“I thought you ran like last time. I thought I lost you again.” Bucky admitted, his words are wrapped in doubt and past hurt you could do nothing to ease because you had the same hurt inked onto your heart. He didn’t want to admit that in front of Clint, but his heart was screaming, begging him to make sure and he simply couldn’t hold back.

You pressed a fleeting kiss to anxious lips and quietly assured him. “I promised you I wouldn’t run. I’m not running again. It’s you and me, forever. Although you did finish off the last of the pie. Maybe I should find someone who saves me the last piece of pie.” You purse your lips and glared playfully at him.

Bucky huffed out a constrained laugh and kissed your forehead, relief filling the shakey whispers he left against your skin. “I’ll buy you more. I’ll get you whatever you want. You just-- You had me scared for a minute there. I flashed back to five years ago and -- I, I can’t lose you again, pretty girl.”

His quivering confession lifted the tension in the air just long enough for your head to remind your heart how easily you betrayed him only hours before. The ache it brings you is laced with guilt, and it sent a shiver through you.

“Where did you go?” Clint interrupts your distorted notions.

Leave it to Clint see through you and get right to it. He was never much for subtlety. If the thought entered his head, it often left his lips before he could question whether it was a good idea; especially if he was upset and right now wasn’t pleased with you. You glanced back at your jeep towards the several boxes stacked up in the back and slowly lift up the bag in your hands.

“I was at our house. I figured I would need a few things if I had to stay here till this is all over. I must have just missed you guys.”

Bucky nodded, but there was still a flicker of apprehension dulling the sparkle in his eyes. Even after everything the two of you have shared since you came home, a large piece of him is waiting to wake up, and all of this be a dream -- a nightmare. One where you never came back at all, and he’s still living with that tear in his soul.

“Next time please let me know where you’re at, baby doll.”

“I should have. You’re right. I’m sorry, but you don’t have to worry. I’m not leaving you, Bucky. Never again.” Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist his hand gripping you as tight as he could without hurting you. An exchange a whispered of ‘I love yous’ and a few dozen kisses later Bucky resembled a somewhat calmer version of himself, no longer frightened with thoughts of old heartbreaks and melancholy daydreams.

For the time being, he was okay.

Bucky’s hand squeezed your waist once more as he ushered you inside, still whispering sugary words in your ear as you went. He couldn’t go long without getting his hands on you or telling you just how pretty you are. It has always been that way, but today it hangs heavy. Tainted and splintered. The gentle whispers and old pet names have been ruined by secrets and lies and guilt and Eddie.

Eddie took the only thing that’s ever been solely yours and infected it with deceit and treachery; it would be forever marred as such.

“I need to help Peggy get some of the kids settled you gonna be alright for a minute?” Bucky asked once you reached the threshold.

You laughed at his protectiveness. Even while you’re locked inside the safety of the clubhouse, he’s still trying to shield you. Part of you wondered how long that would stick around once he learned the truth, once he discovered what you had done. You quirked your head to the side a natural smile curling the edges of your lips.

“I think I can make it up a flight of stairs and into your room with no incidents.”

“Our room.” Bucky corrected you and placed a soft kiss to your lips.

“Right. Our room,” you echoed, softer this time because who knows how long it will be your room too. This wasn’t the place to dwell on things you couldn’t control. Too many eyes on you and too many opinions to be had once the truth finally broke; none of which would be on your side.

Except for Clint. He would always be on your side.

“What happened to your phone?” Clint inquired as you walked by him, leaving Bucky behind you. You were thankful for the reprieve if you were honest, but Clint wasn’t going to let you escape before he got some answers.

“Oh, it died, and I already packed my bag. So I couldn’t find my charger.” You let the lie roll off your tongue so easily you were beginning to wonder if you even knew what the truth was. Clint followed behind you without missing a step. He stepped into Bucky’s room and closed the door behind him. You knew what was coming. 

You could feel it -- blood or not.

“What were you really doing?”

And there was the question you were praying never came up. Clint had no idea how badly you wanted to just blurt it all out. How much you wanted to tell him where you had been and let him know what kind of trouble you were really in, but what good would it do? Clint couldn’t fix things, and he was already so disappointed you couldn’t stand to add anything else to your list of failures.

Not now. Not when you had so little time left.

“I see you’re talking to me again. I guess this means you’re no longer mad at me?” You asked purposely keeping your eyes downcast as you dropped your bags onto Bucky’s bed.

“This isn’t a joke, Y/n.” Clint snapped, voice tight and filled with dread. He was unmistakably scared of something, but you didn’t have the slightest clue as to what it could be. You could guess, though. If there was anyone besides Bucky that knew you, really knew you, it was Clint, and he knew when something wasn’t right.

“I was at our house picking up a few things.” You shrugged and tossed your old wooden box on the bed, ignoring your brother once again. It was the easiest way to aggravate him and hopefully get him to leave you alone. Your box of memories sat on the bed, watching you slowly come undone with each word you spoke.

“Bullshit. Maybe you went there and grabbed a few things, but it was on your way home. Where were you before that?” You turned your back towards him and started to pull your clothes out of your duffle bag, disregarding him and the question but Clint was done playing. He walked over and snatched the shirt you were folding out of your hands, he tossed it back on the bed and turned you around to meet his eyes.

“We just worked on your jeep I can check the mileage and figure out where you went from there.”

“I’m having senior year flashbacks.” You joked. Clint didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “You wanna act like a teenager, I’ll treat you like one.”

The silence in the room reminded you of the morning Clint caught you sneaking in your bedroom window after sneaking out to spend the night with Bucky. He never did tell your dad or Buckys. He’s always known what you were doing before you did and he’s done everything he could to keep you from getting hurt. Why would this be any different? Either you did this alone, or you let your brother in and let him help you.

The pleading look in Clint’s eyes let you know you made the right choice; he would need your help and you needed his.

You pulled the card out of your back pocket and handed it over to Clint, but you couldn’t look him in the eye when you did. That had him worried. Hundreds, maybe thousands of scenarios went through his head, and all of them scared him shitless. There have been a handful of moments in his life when Clint caught you doing something stupid or reckless, and they almost always involved Bucky, but you’ve never been scared to talk to him, and at that moment you looked so afraid his stomach dropped like a brick.

Clint uncrumpled the small white card and read gleaming black letters; over and over. He must have read the damn thing twenty times.  There was no way he was reading it right. Eddie Brock wasn’t-- They thoroughly vet potential club members, so things like this don’t happen. No, no. No. There was a mistake. Eddie couldn’t be a cop, and he wasn’t working with his sister.

Not his bug.

One glance at the tears pooling in your eyes, and he just knew. You were with Eddie today and whatever you talked about involved the club. If he had to gamble, going by the tears catching in your lashes, Bucky was weaved into the threads of whatever this was.

“He threatened you with jail time, didn’t he?” Clint didn't need you to respond because he already knew, That’s how they worked. They go after the ones with the most to lose and out of everyone that was you. No one threatened his sister-- Cop or not.

“Stay here.” He ordered as turned on his heels, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could put one foot in front of the other. This couldn’t leave Bucky’s room. Once it did, it would be too late.  

“No! You can’t. He said he had information on the club and you. He said he could throw you in jail unless--”

“Unless what, Y/n?” Clint was begging for you to just give him something, anything he could go on.  “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on, bug.”

“Unless I testify against Steve and Bucky. If I testify against them, he said he won’t go after the rest of the club.” You spoke so softly he had to read your lips so he could catch what you were saying. It was much worse than he thought. He knew he should have ripped Eddie apart the moment he laid a hand on you.

“Do you have any idea what you’re messing with? You’re playing games you don’t understand.”

“I’m not trying to play any games.” You interpreted, frantic for him to understand. “I didn’t know what to do, Clint!”

That had him seeing red because you knew better than that. He knew you knew what to do the second you were in trouble -- no matter the cause.

“Why didn’t you tell Buck right away? The man quite literally worships the ground you walk on. He would do anything for you! You don’t think he would protect you even from the cops?!”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and asked with a sniff. “What if Bucky thinks I’m the rat?”

Clint couldn’t even dignify that with an answer. Bucky could hear the words from your own lips. You could tell him yourself that you betrayed him, that you sold him, Steve and the club out and Bucky would still defend you. Clint doubted he would even believe you; no matter the proof and no matter who it came from.

“Let me talk to Steve and Bucky first, okay? I’ll handle everything.” You nodded and sank down onto Bucky’s bed.

“What about Bucky? Or the club?” You asked before Clint could pull the door open. He looked back at you and shook his head. He really thought you would have finally got it.

“Sis, if you think for one second Bucky would let anyone in this club lay a finger on you you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

---------

“Steve, got a minute?”  

“Yeah, Tony.” Steve followed Tony into the room and arched his brow as he watched the shorter man close the door. “What did you find that needs this kind of secrecy?”

Tony tossed several photos on the table and crossed his arms over his chest as Steve took in the images. “Eddie is a cop?” Steve growled, flipping through each picture of Eddie. “How did we miss that? He’s the rat, and we opened the damn door!”

“That’s not all. Kind of the least of our problems big guy.” Tony pulled the image out of the stack of photos and met Steve’s gaze, “She met with him today. I hacked into the police system and did a little search to see if Eddie popped up on any red-light cameras, security cameras.  I wanted to get an idea of who we were dealing with. He went inside roughly five minutes before she did. She left first, in a huff but he followed quickly after.”

Steve’s eyes traveled over the grainy images. They were hard to make out. Y/n’s jeep was easy to spot on the traffic cameras, but there wasn’t a single shot of her license plate. She could easily explain that away, but what looked bad for everyone was the image of her entering the diner shortly after Eddie. The swallow on her wrist stuck out like a sore thumb through the blur of the poor quality of the photograph.

“I thought it would be better if you spoke to Bucky about it.”

Tony was right. Something like this coming from anyone but him would end badly. Bucky would go to the ends of the Earth to keep Y/n safe. Everyone knew that and Steve hoped they knew better than to disrespect her or Bucky with ridiculous rumors and a shortage of facts.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Steve told him quietly, still staring at the images spread across the table in front of him. “You tell no one. Not Pepper. Not Peter. No one. I need to speak to Buck.”

"Yeah, yeah. I figured. So, you thinking…"

He took a deep breath and met Tony’s gaze. "I think the club, all of us are in trouble and by the time this is all over, I think I’m going to lose my best friend."

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say,” Tony muttered.

Steve lost track of time, he was unsure how long he had been staring at the black and white prints staining the cherry wood table. How long is too long when death is knocking on the front door? The look of annoyance growing on Tony’s face hinted that it had been too long. He squared his shoulders and gave a sharp tug to his leather. Persona in place. Steve had to take a backseat, right now the club and Bucky needed that.

The large double doors swung open, and Steve scanned the common room stopping when his eyes landed on a mop of brown hair and thin chain holding a delicate piece of the man’s heart.

“Hey, Buck?” Bucky looked up, and his smile fell at the look on Steve’s face. “I need to talk to you a second.”

Previous // Next 

[redledger]

a hello from an old friend with @epiitaphs​

NAT

Her whole body ached. And not the kind of ache where a long soak in the bath and more than enough vodka could fix. No, this was the kind of sore that would be harder to walk off, before she even opened her eyes, Nat groaned, biting down hard to keep from crying out a she shuffled.

She opened one eye, trying to adjust to the room but a little lost if she was honest. Yes, she had a habit of not waking up in the same places but this felt... different. She could have sworn she was doing something...

Her dreams had been full of chasing. Chasing someone with her face. That was it, the imposter. Someone who wore her like a glove to pick off old friends one by one, this fake Natasha with her perfect smile... maybe that was who had her here.

It was then that she shadow caught her eye, snapping her out of pain and to attention. Her thought went immediately to her wrist, but her usual tricks were missing. She actually had fresh clothes on, dry ones. So her captor was considerate. She could feel at least one set of stitches too.

But that meant no hidden knives, no gun bar the one on the table. On the table between them. She lunged forwards, biting down on her lip so she didn’t scream as she launched herself at it. And at the shadow himself.

BUCKY

He probably shouldn't have intervened. His head still hurt sometimes when he watched, but if he had not stepped in, she would have died. And what Bucky (James?) knew was that he did not want her to die when he could help it. 

And though he did not want her to die, he also did not want to die. So when he put her into new clothes, he removed her weapons - painstakingly, but with enough muscle memory that perhaps the many flashes in his mind had been correct. The past was filtering in slowly, but sometimes he didn't know what to trust. 

He could tell when she regained consciousness, though training kept her reactions minimal. Good. She knew how to push past the pain of her wound when faced with a situation like this one. He could leave now - slip out like the shadow he was. They did not have to meet like this. He could go. 

But he didn't have much time to consider, as she lunged forwards, either at him or at the gun. It didn't really matter which. Until she knew who he was, there would be no stopping her. He countered her, trying to keep her from making it to the gun. She was injured, but that did not mean she was entirely weak - well, until he used her would against her. "Natalia." No. "Natasha." He didn't know if she would recognize his voice, if they had taken things from her as well. "Is this how you greet an old friend?"

NAT

She let out a low, furious grunt as he touched her. The pain shot through her body all over again, and she bit down harder to channel it. He held her back from the weapon, even as she was shaky in her feet. She lunged again, their movements in step. She didn’t need the voice to recognise him, it was muscle memory from a dance they had spent years perfecting. 

”You.” She paused, just enough to glare at him with suspicion. They had done this dance so many times, although the memories in her head swam in fog. Last time they had locked eyes, she didn’t even register. He’s tried to kill her at least twice already, but this time he used her name. Her real name too. 

”Are you a friend now?” How could she trust him? How could she believe him? She had done the hard works of building bridges back to her past, but there were gaps. Some of what filtered in last was sleeping next to someone who looked like him. Painful meme had a way of lingering, not the happy ones. And she had been happy when he was around, that much was clear.

”Maybe you want me defenceless for an easy kill.” Yet if he wanted her dead she wouldn’t be breathing. She knew his directive well enough to know that.

BUCKY

She would not stop until she had to. He knew this. If she had to tear herself to shreds in order to kill him, she’d do it. Injury did not necessarily make her weak against a regular opponent - against him, it did. And even though some days, Bucky could barely remember any name he’d been called, his muscles remembered the way to move with and against her. He couldn’t let that set him off balance. 

Did she remember? What name would she call him? What did she know? It could be that they had taken everything from her. The Americans - maybe they were all the same. Steve wouldn’t - but there were secrets on many levels and HYDRA was SHIELD. The pause told him something was there, but it could mean anything. 

It was a reasonable question. Friendship only meant something to real people, not to what either of them had been made into. ”Now, yes. To you, not to the ones pulling strings.” He was very aware he was taking a risk - she could turn him in, send him back. He’d kill her before she tried. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t go back to dull eyes and thoughts that screamed from the back of his mind. 

”What have they taken from you?” She should know this. ”An easy kill would be you bleeding out on the ground. A child knows this.” Leave no trace, no witnesses. He was supposed to be a ghost. No longer, though.

NAT

In some versions it was dancing, his arms around her as she span to the pas de deux of Sleeping Beauty. It drifted in sometimes, the notes and the smiles corrupted. One second his touch was gentle, his lines perfectly extended next to hers and in the next it was different. The memory seeping through the cracks, bruises from the grip of his metal hand leaving marks all over her skin as they fought. That was what the file had said. The half corrupted madness, that she believed she was trained for the Bolshoi and not as a living weapon.

She could fake tears. He might be broken enough to believe them. But she was far too proud. She blocked him, grunting harder. ”Prove it. If you were a friend you’d trust me.”

She took a step back, guard up, shaky on her feet but ready to go another round if he was going to keep this up. ”From me? What have they taken from you, James?” He was the ghost after all. Haunting the living like that would make some kind of amends. ”You almost killed me before, guess you’re not as good as they believed.”

BUCKY

She would tire eventually, but probably not before hurting herself. He would do the same in her place. He considered doing it for her, but she spoke again. "I trust a weapon to kill." He did not know what had led to the moments that he remembered, but she was trying to kill him now. "Not much more. We lived together. Before."

He fell into stance with ease, but did not move to attack her. Everything was the answer. "The past." Their past. It was filtering back in the more he tried, but the good moments were cut with memories of pain and desperation. 

Almost killed - red hair, blood spreading. Target confirmed dead. Confirmed kill with one witness bleeding out. Guess she hadn't died - he'd thought that the moment he'd realized she was who he thought she was. "They were quick to correct that." He had been taught to ignore pain except when it came to correction of errors and malfunctions. "I did not come here to kill you." He would not have wasted supplies like that.

NAT

There was one thing to be said for trial by pain. Natasha knew just how much her body could bare. More than the average person, with the enhanced blood in her veins. No doubt that fall would have killed someone else. No doubt his bullet would too. She had nine lives, it seemed. "I could say the same for you." She smiled, a thin trail of blood falling down her chin where she had bit down too deep. 

The redhead moved again, every hit blocked or countered. They were at a stalemate, because she would rather fight than go quietly. He stood back tough, although he could overpower her in theory. She had seen the wreckage he could leave. And the bodies.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" She did. She knew what a liar looked like. And he wasn't capable of it. "How do I know you're not Hydra's little pet? Someone did. You've got to join the queue from the looks of it."

BUCKY

"That would be smart." He could have tried to argue that he wasn't that anymore, but really, he wasn't far enough away from his time with HYDRA to be sure of it. He might not want to be their weapon anymore, but the knowledge in his brain wasn't going anywhere. 

He should end the fight, but he did not, continuing to block her attacks and try to push her back away from the table with the gun on it. Hydra's little pet slithered into his mind, making itself a nest. To be considered later, the name clearly familiar to him in some way. "I ran from them." She had nothing but his word - something that he hadn't been able to use in a very long time. 

"You were bleeding out. I did not allow that to happen. It should be clear that I am not here to kill you the way she was." She didn't need to know the way he'd tracked her down, the time he'd spent watching. "I have a name now. And thoughts."

NAT

He pushed her back. Again and again, it was making her blood boil. ”Or you ran to them.” This could be Hydra now. They could have the technology to make her look guilty, it wouldn’t be a surprise. They could be playing some kind of bigger game, now she wasn’t under the protection of SHIELD she could be seen as an easy target. The fact Bucky was able to make conversation didn’t change her suspicions at all.

”A name?” She laughed, wiping at her chin with her wrist and setting up for yet another round. ”You had a name when I knew you. And you still shot me bucky.”

She had never called him that. Natasha knew him as more than the asset, but not the past he had wiped from him entirely. They said he was a defector from the west, and gave no details as to how much he had endured. It was only on a roadside that she had seen the recognition in Steve’s face. That was betrayal. Something he was so clearly an expert in.

Natasha launched herself forwards, but this time it was to go low. Her palm planted on the floor, her legs moving high to wrap around his head in an attempt to pull him to the floor. He was too heavy with the metal arm, she remembered that much. Get him flat on his back and she would have speed on her side.

BUCKY

"I did not."He had fought against the pull to go back, and it had nearly been a losing battle. But something had been knocked loose that day. "The Asset was unstable in DC. To be used until malfunctions overran usefulness and then decommissioned." As far as he knew, at least. After a wipe, everything was fuzzy, but he was fairly sure he'd heard that. 

He flinched - as much as he ever flinched, which was to say he narrowed his eyes for a half second - at the sound of the name. "James." He didn't think he could deny shooting her. "It is what we do to survive." Surely she understood. 

She moved again, changing tactics, going low to start and flipping up to catch his neck between her legs. She'd moved fast enough that he couldn't prevent that, but he could control his fall - he knew that much at least. And though he'd done all this with the intention of keeping her safe, the only way he was going to be able to stop her was going to be what he did - pushing them both down, being sure to hit her injured side in addition to attempting to trap her under him.

NAT

She was done talking. Any excuses he had weren’t proof, they could all be more lies. He was lucid enough to be making conversation, or parroting off lines he was given. Natasha would never know for sure.

His flinch she could read though. His nickname had done something. Was he correcting her again? Did he remember she had never once called him that? Or was the asset trying to stay away from a past he didn’t want to remember?

She caught his head behind her knee, pulling him down with the weight of her body and using his own strength against him. But it was brief. She closed her mouth and ground her teeth together to bite back the worst of the scream yet he knew exactly where to hit. Before she could wriggle free, she had the full impact of the Winter Soldier on fresh stitches and almost certainly cracked ribs- if not worse. 

Beneath him it was hard to move, and yet Nat kept clawing. First she pushed her fingers into the join between his metal arm and his flesh, the spot where the soft tissue never really sat right. Then her knee moved beneath him, straight up and into his groin where it would do some damage.

BUCKY

If they hadn't been locked in a struggle for a weapon that she might very well use to kill him, he would have been proud of just how quiet she was when he connected with her wound. She still made some noise, but nothing to suggest how bad the pain might be. It wasn't good to be breaking stitches he had just given her, but if he knew anything, it was that he wanted to stay alive. And trapping her the best he could would keep him that way. 

She didn't stop, which was to be expected. She knew him, then. How much either of them could remember was up for debate, but she knew where the join between flesh and metal was and just how to use it. He snarled, wordlessly, thrashing even as he knew that she would tear into the scar tissue due to his movements. That was alright. He slammed his flesh arm into her, hitting whatever he could connect to. There was no mask to prevent him from speaking, but he fell into habits easily when fighting. And out of everything they had given him, that was hardly the worst habit. 

Her knee - bony and sharp - jammed into his groin. As much as they had worked with him on ignoring pain, there was a certain directness and force that even he could not help but react to in a very human way. He flailed, but couldn't aim the blows in any way that mattered, the movements more of a reaction to her blow than anything else.

NAT

She was dazed for a second, her head fuzzy with the impact of the blow from his arm. Even the human one had a strength she couldn’t compete with. It was short though, as he folded on top of her to allow her to wriggle free. 

Free enough to close her hands around the gun.

Even as she felt the pull at her ankle to drag her back, it didn’t matter. She span, sights trained on him and finger on the trigger.

“Don’t. Move.”

BUCKY

He could feel her move beneath him, getting free from his weight as she did. He was regaining function by the second, but he wasn’t fast enough in doing so to prevent her grabbing the gun. 

What he was fast enough to do was to roll and wrap his fingers around her ankle, pulling her back roughly. 

She went, but she had the gun already. Bucky stared, eyes focused on her face. 

He stilled, watching warily, waiting for an opening for now.

NAT

Both of them, still and deadly. Coiled to attack at any moment should there be a sign of weakness. Sometimes the old methods really were the best, if their handlers could see them now they would surely be impressed. 

Natasha’s white t shirt was starting to show a dark red stain where the fresh stitches had taken a hit, and yet she was unflinching. He had responded to her orders even though they were in English. It was hard to read whether that was good or bad. 

At least now she had the power though, despite the pain. She could go for a head shot any second. With her finger on the trigger still, her green eyes glared at him. ”Who are you? What exactly do you remember?”

BUCKY

Blood stained her shirt from the wound he had reopened. Potentially from other sources, but definitely from that. He should have left before she woke up. He’d done more harm than good this way. That wasn’t supposed to be what he did to people he remembered. 

”James Buchanan Barnes. Born 1917. Assumed dead 1945. The Asset, designation Winter Soldier. Escaped.” He could have simply not answered. If nothing else, she’s a hostile party and he should not speak to her. But he knew her. And recognized her. And brought her here to save.

”Natalia Alianovna Romanova. The Red Room. Training. You were shot. I remember him - from the bridge and from before. I knew him. We’re both from before there was a war. You were later. You are one of their dogs too. Not anymore, though. Which is why you need stitches. Again. I did them.”

NAT

No movement save for breathing. Nothing that could give him and reason to see an opening. ”You could  have that from the leaked files, it proves nothing.”

His grip was still tight on her leg. ”Tell me something James would know.”

BUCKY

Files that he should access more fully at some point. He’s not sure how his mind will take reading it all, if that will make the memories come back better or faster or more complete. ”My existence is those files.” Both he and the world had no other way of knowing unless it was through those files. 

He didn’t know what James would know. It was all mixed up, a confusing cloud of memories and fear. “How do you know what James would know? You did not know James.” He frowned, giving it an attempt. ”He - I followed him into every alley, dragged him away from fights. He complained.”

NAT

It was amazing really. She knew he was capable of cruelty and death, but he shattered her heart without even knowing it. Not that it read on her face at all. Still body, regular breathing, no hint of the pain both physical and mental she was sitting through.

He was talking about Bucky. The kid Steve had mentioned, the one from the exhibit that detailed the whole sad story all over its walls. She didn’t even register. ”Steve. You followed Steve.”

It wasn’t so much a correction as an affirmation. Maybe he was right, that whatever confusing happy memories she had scraped back were just fake. ”Then why haven’t you followed him now?”

BUCKY

He couldn’t show weakness. The name had alternatively brought flashbacks, shook loose memories, filled him with horror, brought back the mission. He couldn’t say it. Hearing it made his brain hurt, poised to do something in its usual store of awfulness. Not now. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. 

The numbness of the empty space still half occupied by programming was welcome. “Yes. And he followed me to Europe.” He was big and not supposed to be there. 

”Too much risk.” He could not expose his weaknesses or his hesitations to her when she was pointing a gun at him. ”It is not time. It is my choice.” said fiercely as if he thought she might drag him to the man.

NAT

They were stuck at a stalemate. As she ignored the strain growing larger still to focus on what he was saying. It was a good thing she excelled under pressure. There was a flicker of something, just behind his eyes but it was too brief for her to get a read on. 

She didn’t trust him. He’d given no proof to her but he was also not as much of a threat whilst she had the weapon. His tone shifted though, some kind of genuine fear. ”You are going to let go of me and I’m going to keep hold of the gun. You want me to trust you? Then take your hands off me.”

BUCKY

An order. Or at least enough of one. So perhaps she was not as different as she portrayed herself. She had been ready to kill him before, he was sure. He withdrew his hand from around her ankle, moving into a crouch, all while his attention never left her face and hands. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted her to trust him. Trust was a big step to take, and he barely trusted himself, even though his days were generally better than they had been at first. "Trust is dangerous." Surely she had not forgotten that. They would not have taken that from her.

NAT

”Is that a threat?” She lowered the weapon but didn’t let go. Didn’t even take her finger off the trigger yet. She pressed her right hand to her side, trying her best to mask the wince that came with applying pressure. ”You’ve done a bit of a crappy job.”

BUCKY

He frowned. "No. A reminder." Despite the question, she lowered the weapon, which only served to confuse Bucky further. Sure, she was still ready to strike, but - ah. The wound was becoming unmanageable. "You attacked. I can fix it." He didn't know if she'd let him, but it would be in her best interest. Her other option was staying there till the blood loss affected her concentration, leaving her open to attack. He didn't want or need to attack her, but it'd affect the balance in the room.

NAT

A frown. Real human expressions. She had seen it before though, a smile when she landed in his arms from the perfect arabesque. No, not that wasn’t right... the smile had been from catching her but...

Nat blinked twice, pushing herself backwards and putting some more space between them till she hit the coffee table. ”You knew my name. You remember the room... is that it?”

Her hand was still pressed tight to the wound. Her options were limited. From their isolated spot she wasn’t going to make it far however she tried to run. Maybe letting him stitch her back up was smart, as long as she could keep the gun in her hand. He’d have a needle though.

”Why you? Why did you save me? How did you know where I was?”

BUCKY

An expression crossed her face, one that he couldn't quite interpret. Whatever was happening in her head made her step back till she hit the table. Bucky remained crouched. It was smart to keep distance between them, though it gave him a minute boost in time he'd have to react should she shoot. 

"Yes, I did." That was from memory, he thought. Other things came from his recent surveillance of her. The question was unclear to him. He would try to answer correctly, accepting that she might shoot him if he did so improperly. "I remember some things. Not others. I don't remember all of the room, just like the rest. But I remember some."

He didn't know why the memories varied so wildly. He couldn't find a proper pattern just by himself. There had been flashes of a smaller Steve, flashes of a larger Steve, her, others. Sometimes memories came back because of something that happened around him. 

"Someone had to watch you. How much do they take care of you?" Clearly more help was needed, if he'd had to step him. They'd probably be looking for her, though. At some point. "I have watched you. They're sloppy sometimes." And he was one of the best, too.

NAT

The question was stuck on the tip of her tongue but there was no way to ask it without giving him information. Something that could be weaponised against her if necessary . She moved her hand to inspect the damage, and quickly thought better of it. She was out of options. ”Have you got a kit?” She needed his help. Natasha just didn’t know how to ask. They had trained that out of her, assets should be self sufficient or die.

”How long have you been watching me? Since DC?” Maybe he knew, all the dirty secrets she hid in the off the books work she was stuck with now. ”They’re sloppy? Hydra or the Red Room?”

BUCKY

"Yes." There should be enough left in his small kit to redo the stitches. He had his own supplies, but he would have to leave to find them and he knew that she would be gone if he tried. He would have run too, if that was the case.

"No. Not since then." He had needed time to figure out what really living in the world with people was like. Time to fight against conditioning he hadn't known existed. Time to establish himself as something that took up space, even if he'd be hesitant to call himself a full person. "Several months." Once he'd gotten himself together. "Yes, they are. Hydra is falling apart quietly. They are trying to regroup, but it is chaos right now. Shield is burning with them. You know that. The Red Room...is difficult." To say the least. They were able to operate more smoothly than Hydra, which made them harder to deal with.

NAT

”You can move then.” It wasn’t an order. Not quite. He had offered to fix them after all but he better not hang around. 

”Months?” She had more than one tail she hadn’t noticed for this long? She was getting sloppy really. She had relied on the comfort and protection of shield for too long, she forgot to keep all eyes on her own back. Nat was going to have to get better, fast, in order to keep up.

She couldn’t help but give a pained laugh at the idea of shield burning though. He was right, and Natahsa had been the one to light the blaze. ”Cut off one head and it spends too long chasing its tail I guess.”

BUCKY

He stood when allowed to, pausing a moment once he was upright. She still had the gun and he had a feeling that it might be pressed to his head as he stitched her up. It would be the smart thing to do. "I will get it out of my pocket. No weapons. Just supplies." It was a bit of a lie - anything he possessed could be a weapon, but it was the principle of the thing. With the warning stated, he reached carefully into a deep pocket to pull out a small kit. 

"Yes. You were not looking for me." Not intentionally, at least. And he'd kept as far back as conditions permitted. "Not all the time, though. It was not constant surveillance." That might not make it better, that he could find her again after leaving her alone. 

A considering silence. "Something like that, yes. They built too quickly. Unsustainable. Should not have tried to leave covert operations." The Red Room would never have made that mistake. "Are you willing to let me fix your stitches?" Really, he was asking for permission to approach.

NAT

Nat just nodded. She was out of options, and the pain was constant as much as she swallowed down. The full ache in her head and the back of her neck told her the fall might have done worse still. She would inspect the damage when she felt safe. 

She nodded again, to tell him it was alright to move closer but kept her wary green eyes fixed on him. ”How long was I out for? Did you see who I was fighting...”

BUCKY

He moved slowly, not wanting to get shot. He knew that one at least. Avoid pain where possible when in a dangerous situation. Avoid death, even. If she was smart, she would shoot to kill. He reached out gently for her side, to survey the damage before trying to fix it. 

"Not enough for identification. She had your hair." That was the easier question. "Sitting will reduce your chance of falling." Never a direct order, but she should sit. "You were unconscious for approximately ten minutes due to your fall." Snow and pain flashed in his mind. "After that, you were unconscious due to pain for approximately an hour. Your attacker is gone."

NAT

She nodded again, her hair wavy where it was still a little damn from her landing. Water... had he pulled her from water or had she swam? This is where it all for blurry. 

”She looked like me.”Natasha muttered it under her breath, more to herself than him as she sat. She was still so wary, clenching her jaw she she had no reaction to his touch. Even his cold metal fingers on her skin. ”How long did it take you to get me here? You must have worked fast.”

BUCKY

Another nod. Not as good as verbal confirmation, but he was not a handler. Would not snap at her to use her voice. 

”I thought it was a malfunction.” Seeing things was always one of the worst parts of what his brain visited upon him. He tested some of the stitches below those that had popped. He might be able to manage to not have to pull out every single one. He started to get rid of the damaged portions as he spoke. ”Approximately half an hour. I ran. And had a vehicle.” A nod. ”Not fast enough.” Since she’d caught him, after all.

[godofplumsandthunder]

Wicked (8/10) - As Long As You’re Mine

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes did many horrendous and evil things. He didn’t felt worthy of love and affection because after all, who could learn to love a monster.

A/N: The onesie picture used in this chapter is from rustedsoldier on Teepublic. And like there’s only two chapters left! I’m freaking out that this series is almost over. 

Previous Chapter    Series Masterlist

And if it turns out it's over too fast, I'll make every last moment last. As long as you're mine

You wake up from your nap well-rested, and surprisingly, at peace. You're at peace with telling Bucky about your pregnancy, about keeping your baby and even being a mother. So, with this newfound peace, you decide to call Bucky. Because Wanda was right, this was not a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. And it's not like Sam really needs Bucky, from your information, this was just a simple recon mission. Bird Brain, as Bucky so lovingly calls Sam, could handle this mission on his own. So, with a little less peace, and with a lot more anxiety, you call Bucky. The phone rings and rings, and when you think the phone is going to go straight to voicemail, Bucky picks up, and you here his tinny voice.

"Y/N, sweetheart, is everything okay? What's the matter?"

Now you were really nervous. He probably won't even be able to make it back. "Bucky, I know you're on a mission right now, and you probably can't come home, but something happened and I really need to talk to you, in person."

"Like hell, I'm not coming home. Bird brain can manage on his own. My girl needs me. And you're more important to me than some mission. I'm on my way." Bucky hangs up the phone. You're left in a state of shock. Bucky was really coming home, and you were going to tell him that you were pregnant. You have a special plan on how you want to tell him, so you get ready and head out into the city. You have work to do.

Bucky was trying his best to stay come as he rode back home in the Quinjet. After he explained things to Sam, he was one the first plane back home. Now that he was alone with his thoughts, Bucky started to panic. He was convinced that you were leaving him. That you finally realized what a monster he was. This was his dream coming true. For once in his long and miserable life, Bucky thought he finally had something good going for him. Sure, your relationship was unorthodox. And sure, you had bad days as a couple, which Bucky mostly blames himself, but he didn't feel like you were unhappy. But then again, Bucky wasn't that great at emotions. God, Bucky really hoped that you weren't breaking up with him. In his opinion, you were the best thing that ever happened to him. He would put up with HYDRA's torture all over again if it meant that he would meet you. If by some godforsaken miracle, you didn't break up with him, Bucky vowed that he would make you an honest woman and as Peter would say, "put a ring on it".

When the jet finally starts to reach the runway just outside of the compound, Bucky doesn't wait for the plane to stop, he just jumps out of it. One of the benefits of being a super-soldier is that you can jump out of a moving jet and get away scratch-free. He runs into the compound looking for you. You're not at your desk, apartment, or the common area. Bucky's running around the compound like a chicken who's had its head chopped off. He turns the hall and runs straight into Steve.

"Slow down, Buck. Watch where you're going." Steve catches his life long best friend, as Bucky bounces off of Steve.

Bucky, frantic to find you, desperately asks Steve if he knew where you were. "Y/N needed to talk to me face to face. I come home as fast as I can, and she's nowhere to be found. Please tell me you know where she is?" Bucky can feel the tears forming in his eyes.

"Hey, it's okay, Buck. Why don't you wait for Y/N in your apartment? I'm sure she just had a few errands to run and she'll be back. I'll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let you know when she is heading back to your apartment." Steve tries to calm Bucky down, seeing the tears and sensing the fear and panic that is in his friend.

"But-" Bucky tries to start a counter-argument to Steve, but he cuts Bucky off.

"No buts. She'll be back soon. No sense in running around looking for her. You'd most likely miss her by doing that. Now, to your apartment." Bucky couldn't possibly argue with Steve, especially since he had his Captain voice on. So Bucky made his way to his room.

You had everything ready for Bucky's surprise, and you were headed back to your apartment. You were about ready to reach for the door handle, when Bucky opens the door, scaring you.

"Shit, Bucky! Warn a girl!" You all but yell at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Bucky retreats like a small puppy, scared to be punished by its owner.

"It's okay, Buck. You just scared me, that's all," you pull him into a big hug. "God, I've missed you, Buck. Do you know that?"

"Not as much as I've missed you, sweetheart." Bucky pulls out of your hug and makes his way, pulling you in tow, towards the couch.

You hand Bucky the gift bag. "So, I'm really happy that you were able to come back so soon. This is what I wanted to talk to you about. Open it, and things should make more sense."

Bucky looks at the bright gift bag confused. He starts to pull out the tissue paper, when he stops at the small, rolled up piece of fabric. "Y/N, what is this?" Bucky all buts whispers.

"Just open it," you instruct Bucky, barley able to contain your own excitement. He unrolls the piece of fabric to unveil a small white onesie, with a red star that matches the one on his arm.

"Y/N, I don't understand," Bucky looks up at you still extremely confused

"Well, a lot of people sell Avenger themed clothes, and I thought that the baby might want to match his dad." You finally confess the secret you've been holding.

Bucky is speechless, just looking at you with tears flowing down your face. He didn't really say anything, so you start to panic. Was he not happy? Was he crying because he didn't want to have a baby with you?

"Well, Buck? What do you think?" You bashfully ask, scared of what his response might be.

"I- we have to get married. We have to get married before the baby's born. If we don't imagine what-" Bucky, the '30s Bucky starts to nervously rambles.

You cup his face, bringing your E/C eyes to match his stormy blue eyes, trying to calm him down. "Bucky, It's not the '30s anymore. A lot of people have babies outside of wedlock and it's okay. All that matters, is that we do what works for us, okay?"

"Okay," he quietly says as he shimmies down to curl up next to you, his hand placed protectively over your stomach.

"You're really pregnant?" Bucky asks after a few moments of silence. You just nod your head, seeing the tears forming in his eyes.

"I don't know how this happened because HYDRA had me listed as infertile. And I know I should be happy that I'm having a child, but I really hope it's a boy. I've always wanted a little boy. And you've given me that chance, Y/N. I have a lot to learn about being a father, but you'll make a great mom, Y/N." He loving whispers into the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine.

You don't know how to receive his compliment. Little did Bucky know about your fear of being a terrible person and giving birth to a monster. If you and he would have sat down and talked about it, you'd have realized he had the same fear. Overwhelmed with emotion, Bucky scoops you up and takes you to bed. Where the two of you talk about babies, baby planning, and potential names for baby Barnes. You were living in the moment for once, which was good, considering this would be one of the last few happy moments you have with Bucky.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

A Good Night’s Sleep, Pt.1

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has been plagued with nightmares since he left HYDRA and the Avengers all have been trying to help him overcome them. Bucky meets you by chance on a coffee run and finds that the solution he was avoiding might be exactly what he needs.

Warnings/ Content: brief mention of PTSD

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! So this little 3 part series came from an idea that @marinaaniseed had a few weeks ago. I absolutely couldn’t get the idea out of my head and so, while I should have been working on my many WIPs, this little fic was born. Parts two and three are going up immediately after this, it’s all done and I don’t feel like dragging it out. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I have. Especially you @marinaaniseed, thank you so much for the idea!!! XOXO- Ash

A Good Night’s Sleep, Part One

“Come on, Buck.” Steve calls out while banging on Bucky’s door, “You gotta wake up, pal.”

Bucky wakes with a jolt, his body rigid and his throat sore from screaming. He’s panting hard, trying to adjust to the world around him. He pulls himself out of bed on shaky legs, wobbling down the hall to open the door right as Steve goes to knock again. “Sorry. Again.” he rasps. 

“Want to come get a cup of tea with me?” Steve offers with sympathetic eyes.

“Nah, I’m gonna grab a shower. Go back to sleep, Stevie.” 

“You know you can talk to me about it if you want to.” 

“I know. I’ll be okay.” Bucky insists, closing the door to end the discussion. 

Under the burning hot spray of the shower Bucky lets himself breakdown. 

After Wakanda Steve had convinced Tony to let him live at the tower with the rest of the team and everyone had been leery of the former assassin joining their ranks. As they slowly came to know him though, he became a welcome addition to their little family of Avengers. The only issue was the nightmares that woke not only Bucky, but everyone else on their floor. Bucky hadn’t slept through the night since he escaped HYDRA, plagued with visions of the destruction he’d wrought as the Winter Soldier. It was an endless stream of death and terror every night when he closed his eyes. When he was on his own in Romania he’d accepted it as his penance for what he’d done. After Shuri and her team pulled him out of Cryo in Wakanda he hadn’t been hopeful the nightmares were gone along with the trigger words. And he had been right - they persisted. 

Bucky warned Steve when he invited him to live at the tower with the team. He told him he had nightmares and was prone to have low days where he just needed solitude to work through his own mind. Steve had promised he’d have his own living quarters and the team would understand. They all had their demons, afterall. The team was very understanding the first days but after that the concerned glances turned to long, worried looks and the team started speaking up.

Bruce had been the first to speak up, suggesting therapy to help him work through what was causing his nightmares. Bucky went and as much as he liked his therapist, nothing they tried stopped the nightmares. Even the meds blew through his system too fast to be of any use. She did give him some good tips for managing his PTSD and depression during the day though, so Bucky considered it a win and still went to see her once a week. 

Nat gave him a spicy Russian tea she swore would knock him out enough that no dreams would come. Nat was wrong, all Bucky got out of the tea was heartburn. She grumbled something under her breath in Russian that sounded a lot like “cursed’ the next morning over breakfast. 

Steve took him for a long run before bed one night, thinking the endorphin high and exhaustion would help Bucky sleep soundly. It helped Steve sometimes with his own dreams of war. It didn’t help with the nightmares, it only made him more exhausted the next day after getting little sleep. 

Tony offered to get him drunk but it would take entirely too much alcohol to overcome the serum in his veins so he declined the offer. 

Wanda suggested she try popping in his mind while he was having a nightmare to see if she could reshape it and try to correct whatever in his mind was causing him to have the dreams. Bucky threw up at the idea of someone meddling in his mind again.

The care and suggestions from the team were sweet, and Bucky knows they have the best intentions at heart, but it’s all still a little overwhelming. Bucky wants to stop having nightmares, he would do anything to sleep for more than three or four hours a night. A small part of him still thinks it’s punishment from some higher power for everything he’s done, but rationally he understands it’s just his PTSD. 

After his shower, Bucky trudges out to the team kitchen for coffee. If he isn’t going to sleep he might as well start on his caffeine routine. Sam is already in the kitchen whipping up a smoothie for himself while Natasha stares at him over a cup of tea, the human embodiment of heart eyes on her face. 

“Mornin’.” he rumbles as he crosses the kitchen, rummaging for his favorite cup in the dishwasher. 

“Another bad one, huh.” Nat asks, but it really isn’t a question.

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You’ve got to figure these out, James.” 

“I know it.” 

“I know what you need.” Sam interjects causing both Bucky and Nat to whip around to stare at him. Sam just shrugs, “You need to get laid, man.” 

Bucky chokes on his coffee. “What?” 

“You. Need. To. Get. Laid.” Sam repeats slowly. “Seriously, man. Find yourself a nice girl, or a guy, and get some. You’ll be all happy and cosy and you’ll nod right off. No nightmares if you’re wrapped up in the arms of a good woman, or man.” 

Bucky shakes his head, the last thing he needs is to terrorize some poor person trying to spend the night.

“It’s not a bad idea.” Nat agrees.

“Not happening.” Bucky says with a warning tone. He fills his cup and retreats to his bedroom, unwilling to continue the conversation. Adding another person to his mess of a life is not the solution. 

Sam’s suggestion spreads through the team like wildfire. Everyone seems to have a friend they could set him up with. Tony even hacks into his smartphone and adds apps for Tinder, Grindr, and Match.com. Bucky deletes them quickly before chewing Tony out about privacy rights. It becomes a bit of a running joke within the group and Bucky is less than thrilled about it. Bucky hasn’t had a date since 1941 and he isn’t sure how to navigate dating in the 21st century. He knows the times have changed, people are more free with their sexualities and casual relationships are normal instead of taboo. Eventually, he thinks, eventually he’ll get back out there. But certainly not just for the sake of random sex. 

Bucky has another particularly rough night. One where he doesn’t dare sleep because the second his eyes close the images start up like a motion picture. He’d spends the night alternating between pacing and reading, trying to not be disruptive while everyone else sleeps. Sam and Steve get up for their run just before dawn and find him pacing in the common room. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Steve asks him.

“I will later. Probably.” Bucky grumbles. 

Sam shakes his head, “Let’s go get coffee. You look like hell.”

Bucky can’t argue with that and instead goes to grab his shoes with a nod.

The city is bustling despite the early hour and the line at their favorite coffee shop is almost to the door. It’s worth the wait though and Bucky likes the thrumming energy of the shop, the blur of muted sounds around him oddly comforting. The woman in front of them is fidgeting with her leather bag, it must have something heavy in it the way she keeps adjusting the strap on her shoulder. Bucky tries not to let his gaze linger too long but the way her long hair falls in soft waves all the way down to the small of her back is distracting. The even softer looking rounded curves of her body are even more distracting, he admits to himself. She reminds him of the women in Renaissance paintings, when lush curves were still revered, before these modern stick thin bodies became the ideal. Bucky wishes the Winter Soldier could go back and pay a visit to whoever started the “thigh gap” craze. 

The woman adjusts the leather strap again and a small white card flutters out onto the floor behind her. Bucky reaches down to pick it up, noticing the card has business information on it. Sam and Steve are chatting and distracted when Bucky taps the woman on the shoulder, “I think you dropped your business card.” he says hesitantly. 

You’re cursing yourself for lugging everything along with you in your enormous bag when you feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a warm masculine voice. You absolutely do not have business cards, you’re a freelance writer and market yourself entirely online. It has to be another pick up line, probably from some smarmy Wall Street asshole who wants to slum it with an artsy girl for a change. You’ve been burned by that type enough times and won’t let yourself do it again, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve had a date. “Does that line work a lot for you?” you reply, turning around with an unamused expression. 

Bucky’s face falls, upset he’s offended you when all he was trying to do was return what you’d dropped. “I wasn’t. I don’t. You. Um, you dropped this. It fell out of your bag.” Bucky fumbles for words, blushing brightly and drawing the attention of Sam and Steve who wear twin smirks of amusement watching him flounder. 

Your irritation dissipates when you see the gorgeous, stuttering man in front of you. He’s tall, though not quite as tall as his companions, his dark hair falls around his shoulders in a way that is either true bedhead or carefully crafted styling to mimic it. His grey blue eyes are wide and honest, clearly not some smarmy pick up artist like you’d assumed. He’s wearing a black hoodie and dark grey sweatpants so it’s unlikely he was the business card type either. You force yourself to stop ogling the poor man and look at the tiny card in his outstretched hand. Recognizing it immediately, you realize you’re the asshole in this scenario. “Shit, that is mine.” you curse, “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually have business cards but my friend gave me this one yesterday for a new bakery that went in over on 2nd Avenue.” 

Bucky looks at the card for a second before you take it from him. “So you’re not Beth Yardley?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if that’s now a ploy to get your name. You really need to be less suspicious but after living in the city for five years you’ve become jaded. He’s cute though. “Nope, Y/N. Nice to meet you…?”

“Bucky.” he offers quickly.

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but he looks familiar for some reason. “Nice you meet you, Bucky. Thanks for saving that card for me. I’m dying to try these cinnamon buns my friend keeps raving about.”

Bucky is smiling again, hoping his face doesn’t betray how eager he is to keep the conversation going. He wasn’t trying to hit on you a few minutes ago but now that he’s seen your face and heard your voice, he sure as hell is. “I love cinnamon buns.” 

You stifle your laugh at the way his cheeks burn bright pink after his admission. He has to be flirting at this point. And he really is cute. Damnit. “We should go try them, then.” you decide, giving him a chance to make a move. 

Bucky feels like he’s swallowed his tongue, “As in, together?” 

“Yeah, sorry if I wasn’t clear. This is me hitting on you now.” you smirk at him as his blush spreads.

Sam is leaning on Steve as they fight for composure, trying not to erupt in laughter and ruin their friends moment. Bucky glares at their backs for a moment before realizing he still hasn’t answered, “Yeah. Yes. Let’s do that.” 

Getting a better look at his companions you realize why he looks so familiar. Of all the people to meet in a coffee shop, you muse. You’re still interested though. “Are you free after this? I was going to get my coffee to go and then head straight there for breakfast.” 

“I’m free. These idiots can find their own way home.” 

“Great. Now, the deciding factor is: icing or no icing? Think hard Bucky, there are two camps of people and if you fall into the wrong one I’ll be forced to shame you for all eternity.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen, worried he’s going to mess up two seconds into what could potentially be a date. “Icing?” he tries.

“Right answer!” you announce him happily. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, you whisper, “It wasn’t really a deal breaker but it’s good to know you’re not some sugar hating monster.” 

Bucky’s grin widens, “No, I have a serious sweet tooth.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine.” you assure him. 

After you order your coffee, quad shot latte with whole milk don’t judge me, and Bucky orders his, the biggest white mocha frapp you have please, you swipe your card before he has a chance to get his wallet out. Bucky balks at you paying but you tell him he can get it next time with a flirty smile that has his brain shutting off, unable to continue complaining. 

Steve and Sam give Bucky small waves and thumbs up, not interfering when Bucky leaves with you. “Your friends seem nice.” you say kindly as you step out onto the busy city sidewalk.

“They’re the best.” Bucky agrees with a nod. 

You make idle chit chat on your way to the bakery, keeping the topics light and superficial. Bucky tells you he grew up in Brooklyn, moved away for a bit, and recently moved to Manhattan with his friends. He seems hesitant as he explains it and you realize he’s trying to not be obvious about who he is. Like you couldn’t have already guessed.

You snort a laugh into your latte. “So what was Brooklyn like in the 30s?” you ask bluntly.

Bucky’s eyes practically bug out of his head, “How did you...?” 

You give him a half smile and shrug, “The hand is a good clue, plus your face was everywhere for a while. It doesn’t help that your best friends are Captain America and the Falcon.” 

Cringing, Bucky figures this will be the end of his almost date. “We don’t have to go get breakfast. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be seen with me.” 

You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, shocked by his response. “Whoa, hold on. I knew who you were before I asked you to join me. I don’t care what other people think about you or your past. You seem like a nice guy and I want to get to know you. The real you.” 

Bucky takes a moment to process your words, finding it hard to believe someone is willing to look beyond his past. He can't find a shred of deceit in your expression though, so he answers your question. “Well, there were less cars and it smelled worse if you can believe it.” 

You huff out a laugh, resuming your walk to the bakery. “I can’t. Tell me more.” 

Bucky tells you stories of the Brooklyn of his youth as you make your way across town. You aren’t in a hurry and Bucky is happy to spend extra time out in the warm sun with a beautiful woman. 

The bakery is a little glass fronted shop sandwiched between two larger brick buildings. You would have walked right past it if you hadn’t been looking for it. Bucky opens the door for you and you smirk, amused by the old fashioned gesture. The scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar hit you the second you’re inside. “Oh my god.” you groan the amazing smell. 

Bucky’s steps falter at the sound you made, trying desperately not to let his mind go where it was headed. “This place smells amazing.” he says, inhaling deeply.

“It had better taste as good as it smells or I’ll riot.” you joke. 

The line is short and before you know it, Bucky is ordering two iced cinnamon buns plus an assortment of other pastries he picks at random out of the display case. 

“Are we feeding an army?” you question as the tray piles higher and higher with plates of baked goods.

“Sorry,” he blushes, handing over his card to the waiting cashier, “Um, my metabolism is pretty high and I have to keep up with it or I get cranky.” 

“Ah, okay. No hangry super soldiers on my watch.” 

Bucky chuckles and nods. 

There’s a sunny spot in the window of the bakery with an unoccupied cafe table, Bucky motions towards it and it’s your turn to nod, following him over to it. The tray takes up most of the table and you perch your coffees on your respective sides, eager to dig into the spread in front of you. You go for the cinnamon bun first, knowing one of them is yours and not wanting to presume you’ll be trying any of the other treats. 

The taste of caramelized sugar and cinnamon explode on your tongue, eliciting yet another moan that makes Bucky fidget in his seat. “Okay, that’s it. I can die happy now.” you announce dramatically. 

Bucky takes a swipe of the icing off the top of his cinnamon bun and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh wow.” he lifts the entire bun up to take a large bite and closes his eyes happily as he chews. “This is incredible.” he says once he’s swallowed, quickly taking another large bite. His cheeks puff out adorably and you grin around your own bite of cinnamon bun. 

“I can’t believe you just bite it like that.” you tease. 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do with it?” 

You demonstrate the way you’ve been peeling yours apart from the outside in, “You uncoil it, like a normal human being.” 

“Takes too long.” Bucky scoffs, “My way is faster.” 

“But then it’s gone. My way you can enjoy it more.” 

“Pfft. I enjoy it plenty, and I would have time for two of them while you eat just one.” 

“Not all of us have super soldier metabolisms, one bun is enough.” 

Bucky looks at the four other plates on the tray and shakes his head, “Then I guess it’s good to be me.” 

You laugh at his antics as he takes another big bite, smiling while his cheeks chipmunk out again. The look you’re giving him almost makes him swallow wrong. He knows this look, he remembers it from the dance hall girls in the 30s. Attraction. Desire. You’re flirting with him in your own, unique, modern way. And Bucky is shocked to realize he’s been flirting back. He didn’t intend to get back out there so soon but here he is, enjoying breakfast with a beautiful woman. He wonders if you’re the type who would appreciate being asked out on a date, or if you’d rather exchange numbers and call him up when the mood strikes. A booty call, Sam had called it. Bucky still doesn’t get how there’s such a big difference between a booty call and a butt dial but thankfully Sam had corrected him when he got the reference wrong. 

Bucky finishes his cinnamon bun and starts in on a vanilla bean scone, enjoying the way the light glaze crackles as it gives way to the soft, buttery dough. You’re still enjoying your bun, about half way through, so Bucky tears the other pointed corner of the scone off and deposits it on your plate. “It’s really good.” he insists, not wanting you to miss out.

You glance from the bite of scone up to Bucky who’s looking at you hesitantly like he’s waiting to see if he’s done something right or wrong. You pop the bite of scone into your mouth, chewing slowly before nodding, “Yeah it is. Thanks.” 

Bucky practically beams. Maybe he can figure out 21st century flirting. He’s not sure if flirting via baked goods is a thing or not, but it absolutely should be. Bucky methodically works through all of the plates on the tray, offering you bits of each different item. You snag two bites of the cream puff but decline when he offers to buy you your own. The conversation shifts to the best meals you’ve had in the city. Food is an easy common ground for you both. You explain to Bucky that the small town you grew up in was pretty limited restaurant-wise and you’ve tried a lot of different places since moving to the city. You’re great in the kitchen but some days, after spending hours alone working at home, you like to get out and around other people for a while. 

“There’s an Italian place, Sapori, near the tower you would love.” Bucky tells you, “I don’t know what the big deal about the place is but Stark always gets reservations when we’re celebrating something. They make everything from scratch and it’s damn good. There’s these little pillowy pasta things. Starts with a g but you don’t pronounce it. I don’t know, but they’re amazing.”

“Gnocchi,” you say, stifling a laugh. 

“Yeah! Those. Best meal I’ve had in the city by far.” 

“That’s only because you haven’t had the food at Xián Tián.” 

“Well, you should let me take you to Sapori and then you’ll understand.” 

“Did you just ask me out?” you raise your eyebrows at him in surprise.

Bucky blushes and nods, suddenly feeling more shy. “Yeah. I did. This is me hitting on you now.” he says, paroting your words from earlier. 

“Well done, Barnes. When are we going?” 

Read part two HERE!

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 8)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1599

Chapter summary: Easter holidays and ignoring Bucky's show; all anyone can talk about.

Warnings: a little bit of angst :( no actually Bucky, but soon!

Previous: Chapter 7

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

Waking up early on Monday, you take a few moments to just lay there, enjoying the quiet. You know today will be difficult, no matter how many promises of letting go and moving on you've made to yourself. Five more minutes avoiding the inevitable won't hurt.

Peggy had insisted you stayed until late afternoon yesterday, not wanting you to be alone too soon, but you couldn't intrude on her for too long. The short walk back to your house felt like a marathon as you past right by the house Bucky used to rent a flat in, and you couldn't stop yourself from glancing through the hedge and into the window that used to be his lounge. The 'for let' sign was up again, another neighbour moving on some place new, and you'd quickly slipped on your sunglasses, not wanting any pupils to see their teacher crying in the street. Reaching home, you were surprised to find your abandoned shopping placed neatly inside your porch. Looking a little scuffed and bashed, but nonetheless edible, you'd brought it inside as you wondered who you had to thank.

Dayton had called you yesterday evening, under the guise of just checking in, but you had a feeling it was more than that, and it didn't take long to get it out of him. Bucky had turned up at his place on Saturday night, after you'd seen him, and when Dayton had taken the opportunity to ask about what was happening between the two of you he'd taken off again.

“Didn't give me a chance to go after him. Straight back in his taxi and puff, gone.”

“Where's he now then?” You'd asked, worried despite everything. You can't just switch your feelings off overnight.

“On his way back to America, according to one of his cast mates. Buck's not answering my calls.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart.”

“What if it is!” You'd exclaimed. “What if I've caused a wedge between you and him? Just because he hates me shouldn't mean he-”

Dayton interrupted, bewildered. “Whoa, what? Hates you? What's going on?”

Trying to summarise Saturdays events, the tears made an appearance again. He was just as astounded and angry as Peggy was, sure you must have heard Bucky wrong, but you know what he said.

You don't think you'll ever forget it.

“Don't you worry about it, I'll find out what's going on.” Dayton had hung up with a promise.

Pulled back from your reminiscing by your alarm, you sigh and slide out of bed, hoping to get this day over as quickly and painlessly as possible.

*****

Easter is late this year, a blessing as it means you only have to make it through a short week before the school breaks for a fortnight. Even three and a half days feel like forever, especially as the upset caused by seeing Bucky again, and everything that came with it, has you running on hardly any sleep.

His television show has clearly wrapped, the promotion in full swing, and all the children at school can talk about is the trailer. You haven't been able to bring yourself to watch it yet, which is why it comes as such a shock during lunch break on Tuesday when a double decker bus rolls past the front gates, his image plastered on the side, two times larger than life. You vaguely recognise the actor he's standing beside, but you're too dazed to think straight.

Noticing your frozen figure staring after the bus, Peggy comes across to stand with you, a comforting hand on your arm as you turn to her open mouthed.

“Are you okay Y/N?”

You spin back to the playground where all the children who also saw the advert are straining to see it again. “Have you watched the trailer?”

“Do you want me to say no?”

“I want you to be honest.”

“Then yes. It actually looks quite good.”

“Of course it does,” You mutter bitterly.

“Sam Wilson is always great.”

You nod in agreement. No wonder Bucky had been so excited to get this role, there weren't many actors he placed higher than Sam Wilson, and getting to work with him was probably a dream come true.

It's just a shame that dream didn't involve you.

*****

By the time Thursday afternoon arrives you feel like you need the two weeks off just to sleep. A few pencils were snapped when you suddenly remembered Bucky's words to you but other than that, you managed to get through to the end of term with no major break downs.

The holiday comes at a good time weather wise too, and you bask in the sun with the chickens for most of the first weekend. You're happy the hens got to enjoy a few full days of freedom in the garden, as when you open their coop the next morning, little Dot isn't moving.

It is obvious she's gone.

Moving her away from the others as you find the spade to dig her a final resting place, you wipe your eyes on your sleeve. She was always Bucky's favourite, smaller than the others and picked on more because of it, he made sure she never missed out on treats.

Replacing the earth after you bury her in a shady spot under the willow, you find a tall, pretty daisy to plant in loose soil over her, before slumping down on to the bench nearby, exhausted both physically and mentally. Most people laughed when you said you had such pets, not understanding how a farm animal could be as interesting and rewarding as a more conventional companion, but then they met them and understood your love. It's always hard when you lose one, harder still when the person you long to speak to about it has made it clear he doesn't want you in his life any more.

When Sophia comes to stay during the second week she brings Benjamin, and flowers in sympathy for your loss. She gets it. Helping her unpack her weekend bag, you listen to her chatter away about her plans for the nursery, and how they're trying to squeeze one last holiday in before they become a family of four.

Dayton's on a trip back home, very last minute, and he'd asked you if you minded keeping Sophia company for the couple of days he's away. He didn't say why he's going back to the USA but you have an idea, it would be too much of a coincidence so soon after Bucky disappeared from his driveway after your confrontation. Regardless of your own feelings that it would be pointless to try and talk him round, you wish him luck in his quest.

She knows about the current situation surrounding you and Bucky, but ever the optimist, she's convinced that it's nothing more than a silly argument that will be resolved in a few weeks. You don't have the heart to tell her otherwise. Instead, you busy yourself with keeping Sophia and Benjamin fed, watered and entertained, playing the perfect host to hide your pain.

*****

School holidays used to drag on forever when you were a child, however now you work there it feels like you blink and it's over. You're not too disappointed to be back, however, as the summer term is the most enjoyable in your experience, the lighter evenings meaning you don't feel so confined in your home after you finish for the day, and the children seem more happy and carefree in the warmer weather.

There were also more dates in the calender this time of year, it'll be sports day again before long, but first, the May Day celebrations. You hadn't been involved in the organisation of this years fête, and as you stare at the poster and the announcement of the 'extra special star guest', you really wish you had. Ripping the flyer off the wall, you march to Peggy's office, not bothering to knock before you burst in so it's lucky she's alone.

“What the hell is this?”

“I could ask you the same, Y/N.” She stands from her desk, moving to close the door behind you. “You can't just charge in here unannounced. We've got to at least pretend to be professional.”

She's joking but you're not laughing, shoving the offending piece of paper into her hands, causing her smile to slip.

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed. Why the hell didn't you tell me he was coming?” You pace as you rant. “Why the hell is he coming? What has he got to do with anything! And you must have some sort of input in this, why did you let it happen?”

“I'm sorry Y/N. What was I meant to do?”

“Stop it!”

“Without airing yours and his private lives, there's nothing I could’ve done!”

She's right. Huffing in frustration, you hold your tongue. You can't afford to lose two friends in less than half a year, and you know Peggy hasn't done this on purpose, now you think about it rationally Bucky being there would bring a lot of attention to the schools humble spring fête. You can no longer go on any website, or watch TV, without seeing his face. Whatever the show is about you're not sure, as you still haven't got the strength to watch any of the dozens of videos hanging around, but it's clear it's going to be the next big sensation. That Bucky is going to be the next big sensation.

You guess you're going to have to suck it up and ignore your heartache, just for one day.

*****

A/n: lot's of Bucky in the next chapter, I promise! And maybe an explanation or two...

As always, thank you for reading!! Feedback is very welcome if you would like :D

Chapter 9

[lovemesomerafael]

Others Like Me Chapter 11:  The Switch

Chapters 1-10

Well, shit.  I thought I had completed this fic.  Apparently, it wasn’t finished with me.  This is a damned Endgame fix-it, and no mistake.  Maybe a little bit of an Others Like Me fix-it, as well.    

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s really no reason why Bucky is afraid.  It’s not like he cares if it doesn’t work.  If it blasts him into atoms, so be it.  Still, his gut is clenching and he has sweat on his upper lip as he looks around him one last time.  Tony’s lab looks much as it always did, even though Tony has been gone for over two years.  Pepper has never set foot on the grounds of the Avengers compound since Tony’s death.  She’s certainly never expressed any interest in the things in this lab.  Only Bucky comes in here now.  Peter and the new guys have their own labs.

Bucky blows out a disgusted breath and shakes his head.  Those labs.  Only Peter’s has any life in it at all, and even his doesn’t come close to the sheer chaotic joy this place had when Tony was alive and working in here.  The reckless glee that kept him up for days on end, obsessively tinkering, relentlessly unsatisfied until he’d achieved the jaw-droppingly impossible.  The new labs are sterile, boring, depressing as fuck.  Bruce’s lab, of course, has always been that way.  

He never goes into any of the labs, even Bruce’s, although they’ve all tried at various times to interest him in their work.

Truth is, Bucky isn’t interested in much of anything now. He sure as shit isn’t interested in being here anymore.  Hasn’t been since…

Just say it, asshole. He did it, whether you say it or not.

Since Steve left.  There.  He said it.  Since Steve motherfucking unilaterally decided they’d reached the end of the line.  It still hurts like hell to even think that phrase, not to mention what it feels like to think of Steve himself.

And it hasn’t gotten better. Maybe it’s gotten familiar, he supposes, like the constant, screaming pain in his shoulder had gotten familiar when he’d had his old Hydra arm.  But not better.  Bucky still can’t take a breath without missing Steve.  For a while, he’d actually longed for the days when he couldn’t think or feel at all.  

Because yeah, Bucky is grieving.  His heart is shredded and he’s lonely beyond enduring, he dreams of Steve and wakes up to experience anew the knowledge that Steve is gone and Bucky will never see him again.  Never hear his voice.  Never roll over in the night to find that warmth, or breathe in that scent that instantly made the world go soft, or feel that familiar body that is the only right shape.  

His throat still seizes up a hundred times a day, when he sees something that reminds him of Steve or hears someone say something Steve used to say.  He still has those fucking vicious moments when he hears a sound and thinks, “Oh, that’s Steve,” only to realize in the next second that it isn’t Steve.  It can’t be Steve.  It will never be Steve.  And every single time, it’s like losing Steve all over again.

And then he remembers why.  He remembers that Steve chose this.  Did this to him, with his eyes wide open and full knowledge of what it would do to Bucky.  Steve fucking sentenced him to this.  Every single “I love you” and every cursed “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line” he uttered was an empty, traitorous, motherfucking lie.  

That’s when Bucky screams and rages, throws things and punches walls and tries his best to stomp his love for Steve out of existence any way he can.  He’s destroyed so many apartments and so much training equipment that now they just order new stuff on a schedule, like groceries.  The worst part is, it never helps.  Nothing does.

He’d tried sex, but he found out pretty quickly that men aren’t even an option anymore.  He tries very hard to forget how he learned that.  The only good thing was that it had been Dmitriy’s bed he’d been in when the familiarity of holding a man in his arms had hit him with every bit of the force of Tony’s repulsor as it blasted off his arm.  He’d begun to weep, overcome by the memory of how Steve had made him feel.  Back when he’d believed Steve loved him.  Hell, back when he’d believed Steve even gave a damn about him.  

Dmitriy had held him without question, without comment other than soft reassurance and encouragement to just let go.  Dmitriy hadn’t been afraid of his grief, had told him to scream and cry - hell, howl at the damn moon if he needed to - Dmitriy would stay with him as long as it took while he did.  Which had, of course, reminded Bucky of Marya, who had done the same thing for him once.  After that, Bucky had choked on his sobs, fighting to breathe, grieving not only Steve, but Marya, as well.  

Women had helped, a little, for a while.  He could forget sometimes, when he was flirting and angling to get them in bed, and while he was fucking them.  But that was all he wanted and, inevitably, they’d either develop damn feelings or, worse, they’d want to motherfucking talk.  Bucky most emphatically does not want to talk.  He doesn’t even want to think.  So he stopped bothering with trying to drown himself in sex.  The temporary anesthesia isn’t worth the price.

These days, Bucky has become cold and silent. Even when he does speak, he’s morose and bitter.  Missions and fights hold no interest for him anymore, beyond a very slight lightening of his anguish brought on by the idea that maybe he’ll die.  

Which he made the mistake of telling Bruce one night.

That had been the beginning of the end.  Bruce, of course, couldn’t let that go, and asked Sam to step in, given Sam’s long experience with traumatized warriors.  Bucky and Sam, never close, had spent a few tense, mostly silent hours together before Bucky had refused to even try anymore.  Sam had insisted on one more attempt, they’d gotten into a shouting match, and Bucky had hidden – there was no more mature word for it, if he was being honest – here in Tony’s lab.

Bucky had pulled up one of Tony’s virtual screens, the ones that had fascinated him once upon a time, to decide where in the world he was going.  He could no longer kid himself that staying with the Avengers was an option.  

And that’s when he’d remembered what Tony had told him.  About Marya. About the switch.

*****

Tony had not done well with the fact that he had been the one to allow Marya to sacrifice her own life to destroy the remnants of Hydra.  Tony, of course, was a bubbling cauldron of messed-up shit to begin with, and he’d added a fuckton of guilt over Marya’s death to the toxic brew in his head.  One night, out of his mind with booze and torment, he’d called Bucky at some insane hour and begged him drunkenly to come to his lab.

Bucky had left the warmth of Steve’s body for one reason only: to try to get Tony out of the lab and into bed.  For Tony’s sake, but more than that, for Pepper’s, since their merry-go-round of a romance seemed to be on an up cycle.  When he’d found Tony, he was pretty much incapable of walking, but he could still talk, since the only thing capable of shutting Tony up was complete loss of consciousness.

“See this?”  Tony had asked, holding up a small silver box with strangely smooth, rounded edges and a toggle switch on top.  “This is how she did it.  This is why there was no body.”

Bucky instinctively recoiled from Tony’s words, and was not gentle as he snatched the box from his hands and slammed it down on a workbench.  “Get your ass up, Stark, I’m taking you to bed.”

“How’s Cap gonna feel about that?”  Tony leered.

“Yeah.  Like you’d be any use to me in this condition.  Fucking stand, Stark, because I will carry you if you don’t.”

“No, Barnes, you need to hear this!  You’ll be happy about it!”

Bucky didn’t listen further, simply leaned over and roughly bundled Tony up, tossing him over his shoulder.  “You puke on me and I swear…”

“She might not be dead!  I gave her one of these – C’mon, Barnes, you gotta listen to me! We never found it, and even if her body would’ve been vaporized in the explosion, the switch would still have been there!  I think it must have worked!”

Bucky ignored Tony as best he could, not letting him down until he threw him bodily onto one of the leather couches in the great room of his penthouse.  “Go to sleep, you moron.  I’ll come check on Pepper in the morning, see if she needs help disposing of your corpse.”

“Listen to me!”

“NO!”  Bucky shouted as he entered the still-open elevator and pushed the button.  Tony was still yelling after him when the doors closed, mercifully cutting him off.  Bucky knew from experience that Tony would pass out within a few minutes.  

*****

They never spoke about it again.  Bucky doubts Tony even remembered they’d ever talked about it once, and he sure as hell hadn’t brought it up.  But that doesn’t mean he forgot.  And once Tony was killed, and Steve…  Damn it, Barnes, once Steve fucking left you…  Well, the idea was one of the few that didn’t burn like fire to contemplate.  

Because he’s missed Marya.  He’s never gotten over the pain it causes to remember her when he hears one of the Troops misunderstand a turn of phrase, or fumble to use a new bit of slang correctly.  Bucky and Dmitriy are closer even than their initial connection had promised, which has always been a double-edged sword because of how much Dmitriy reminds Bucky of his sister.  Even when Bucky had eventually forced himself to try to move forward with his life after Steve left, and begun to explore his mutual attraction with Dmitriy, there had been an element of recapturing a bit of his relationship with Marya.  

It’s nice to think about what it would be like to see her again, to hear her make fun of him, and laugh, and ask her simple questions about very complex things.  It eases something in him to remember her deep, uncomplicated, entirely unselfish love for him.  Steve’s love had been life to him, but it had never been uncomplicated.  And, Bucky’s bitter, scarred heart always adds to that thought, it sure as shit was never unselfish.  Because it was fucking never real.

*****

It was still a few weeks after his fight with Sam before Bucky had actually done anything besides hold the switch in his hand and imagine.  He imagined what it would be like if there was a chance in hell it could actually work, but he also imagined what those last moments between Tony and Marya must have been like.  

The bomb was disabled.  Because Marya had watched Tony build it, she knew how it worked as well as he did. Either one of them could have stayed behind to set it off.  But they made the only possible choice, because Ironman was needed to help the Falcon take out the helicopters that threatened the team’s escape.

“There’s no time,” Marya said.  “Get the teams out of here.”

Tony argued, of course, and Marya insisted.  Of course. Tony had told Bucky many times what Marya had said then.

“Hydra cannot survive. That is the one thing that matters here. Now get my family and your friends out of here, take care of those helicopters, and let me do my part.”

And how Tony had responded.

“I know there’s something profound I’m supposed to say here, but fuck if I know what it is.”

“Say good bye, and that you’ll protect my Sergeant and his Captain. Say that. And then go.”

“I will. I swear.”

“Good bye, Sir.”

“Good bye, Marya.”

Tony hadn’t told him the last part.  He’d tried, that one drunken night, but Bucky had refused to listen.  He could imagine it, though.

“No.  Marya, no.”

“Sir-“

“Listen to me!”  Tony pulled the switch from somewhere and handed it to Marya.  

“You can run the wires through the broken relay.”  Tony pointed.

“That won’t –“

“I know, all right? I know it won’t stop the blast. But it’ll delay it until the relay shorts out.  Which it will.  So you do it, do you hear me?  You do it and then you hit this switch.  And if there’s a God, which we do not have time to debate right now, you live.  This device is sort of a safety net.  I never really liked the idea of checking out, and after the Chitauri, well…  I’ve been working on this.  It should take you to safety.  But…”

“Safety? Where?  What-“

Sam’s even more insistent voice had come over the comms, using some colorful language to encourage Tony to hurry, you asshole.  “I can’t promise, Marya.  It’s never been tested.  But it could take you to an alternate universe.”

“A…  Sir, are you fucking with me?  Right now?”  

“Just do it, Marya. And if it doesn’t work, I’m sorrier than I can ever say.  But if it does, wherever you end up, find me.  Find me and explain to me what happened.  Show this to me, and I’ll believe you.  I think any version of me will recognize my own work, and I’ll sure as shit be crazy enough to believe you.”

They said goodbye one more time, hugged hard while Marya wished Tony good hunting, and that was that. Bucky remembers standing outside and watching the earth rise and then sink lower after the whuumph of the underground explosion.

Whether or not she’d believed him, or believed it would work, Marya was the most hopeful person Bucky had ever met.  He knows she would have wired the explosives through the ruined relay and then toggled the switch.  Just in case.  And the truth was, the Troops had never found anything like that switch in the ruins of the Hydra bunker when they’d combed through everything to be sure it was all destroyed beyond recall.

So it was possible.  Or, at least, it wasn’t impossible.

*****

At first, when Bucky had waved Friday to life and asked for the files, he’d been half mocking himself for even thinking there could possibly be anything to it.  Time travel was hard enough to swallow, even after Steve had used it to rip his fucking guts out.  Alternate universes?  Come on.

But when Friday had actually pulled up something, he’d leaned forward and started to read.  And when he did, he’d next looked up to realize it was two hours later and he hadn’t moved.  On the heels of that realization had come the blinding discovery that, in those two hours, he hadn’t hurt, either.  Hadn’t thought of Steve.  Hadn’t thought of anything other than the esoteric brilliance of Tony Stark’s mind and the foreign sort of sense it all made.  Underneath that, if there was any emotion at all, it was a tiny, quiet something that Bucky could no longer recognize as hope.  

Picking up a screwdriver and actually opening up the switch had been another watershed.  It meant that some part of him was actually considering the insane possibility that Tony could have been right.  That he had actually created a device that could transport Bucky to another universe. One where Marya - his Marya, not just an alternate version – was alive and well.

Once he’d rebuilt the switch, with the modifications Tony had come up with after Marya’s… death, or escape, or whatever, it had been another few weeks before he’d decided how he would go about using it.  Did he say goodbye, risking that they’d try to stop him?  Did he leave without a word, as hurtful as that might be to anyone who still gave a shit? In the end, he’d decided to send a message to Dmitriy.  The one person who will grieve him, and who Bucky knows can come to support what he’s about to do.   To everyone else, he’ll either disappear without a trace, in which case they’ll assume he’s gone to ground like they all expect him to, anyway, or his fried corpse will tell them he died of dumbassery the way Tony Stark should have done a million times in this lab.  Neither is fair to those he’s leaving behind, but either way works for him.  Bucky Barnes can no longer believe in fair.

*****

Standing in the silent lab, Bucky can see and hear Tony as though he was still on the couch, drunk and agitated.  He wishes, not for anything resembling the first time, that Tony was here now.  Mostly because he thinks Tony might understand.  

Bruce won’t.  Sam sure as hell won’t.  Peter is still too young to understand completely, but given how devastated he’d been by Tony’s death, he might begin to, in time.  Dmitriy will help him with that.  No one else will care.  

Bucky looks down at the switch in his hand.  Did he read Tony’s notes correctly? Understand the diagrams well enough? It would be just his luck that this piece of shit had actually worked for Marya, but that Bucky’s fucked up trying to recreate it.  But who cares?  If that’s the case, he’ll be dead, and she will never know.  

“Well,” he sighs out loud.  “Here I go.  I don’t hate you, Steve.  I gotta do this because I love you.  I hope, if you ever know, you can see that.”

It seems right that his last thought in this universe is of Steve.  He closes his eyes and flips the switch.

[starkthemerchantofdeath]

Tony Stark x Reader x Brother!Steve

Title: Bitch

Warning: Language, smut

Summary: (Y/N) is Steve's sister. She hate Steve's girlfriend. Meanwhile,

(Y/N) relationship with Tony that she call 'just friend' annoy the Captain America.

Steve's Pov:

Stark held a party again tonight at Stark Tower and he ask me to bring my girlfriend, Sharon. As soon as Sharon appear at the tower my eyes can't stop looking at her. She is so beautiful.

"Hey doll, you look beautiful tonight." I compliment her.

She utter a 'thank you' and then give me a light kiss on my cheek.

Third person pov:

While Steve is talking with Sharon, (Y/N) is rolling her eyes. She dislike Sharon with Steve. Every time she saw her brother with that woman she just wanna puke.

"Hey (y/n) what's it with that pouty face?" Tony ask half joking.

"Look at them Tony. Sharon is so annoying." She tell him.

"Oh shut up. She is hot tonight." He say smiling.

"Pffft hot? Hot my foot!" She spat.

"Oh baby, jealous much huh?" He tease.

"Back off Stark!"

Tony let out a chuckle, both hand in the air showing her that he is surrendering. Tony than take a sit next to (y/n) and take a sip of his famous whisky feeling amuse looking at his so called 'friend' angry about her brother's girlfriend.

In front of them, Steve and Sharon keep flirting with each other. Sharon's hand is all over Steve. Lips lingering around Steve's neck. That is it. (y/n) than take her cue to cut the sexual tension between his brother and his bitch girlfriend.

"Hi. Brother." (y/n) greet making Sharon rolling her eyes.

To her secret, Sharon hate (y/n) with all her heart. To Sharon, (y/n) is annoying little shit. To be honest, Sharon is jealous of (y/n) because Fury and all people around her trust and like (y/n) more than her in S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Oh my god." Sharon fake gasp when she 'accidentally' pour her wine on (y/n)'s dress. Oh how (y/n) like it.

"What the hell?!" (Y/N) yell and throw a glare to Sharon who keep 'apologizing'.

"What a bitch are you!" (y/n) yell making all attention on her.

"(Y/N), first language! Second, Sharon already say sorry so don't make a scene." Steve warn his sister but (y/n) did not buy it. She know that Sharon mean what she did.

"(y/n) I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to. Oh my god look at your dress. Oh my god, I ruin your dress. Steve you trust me right? Really, I don't have any intention to ruin her dress." She say faking her concern. Well look like she managed to steal the Oscar Award from Leonardo Di Caprio in 2016 when she start crying and hug Steve. Such a drama queen!

"Like I wanna trust your lie!"

"(y/n) what's wrong?" Tony ask standing beside her.

"This bitch ruin my dress!"

"(y/n), she say she didn't mean to. Stop being a drama queen!" Steve yell. Oh now I'm the one who's drama queen huh? (y/n) thought.

"What? You defend her more than me? Steve, I'm your sister and you defend this bitch just because she is your girlfriend?"

Steve want to open his mouth when he saw Sharon start to cry harder. He glare at (y/n) and Tony before he take Sharon hand and leave.

"What the hell?" (Y/N) say devastated.

"Alright folks, drama is over." Tony say to the audience.

"Okay baby, lets get you change." Tony say to (y/n).

(y/n) pov:

I'm so mad at this time. How dare Steve choose her over me, his own sister! Don't he know that that bitch cheat on him behind his back? She just date him because she wanted to gain her popularity as Captain America's girlfriend. Did Steve blind? Or is he out of his mind? He date a girl that used to be his niece. What the heck? She is his ex-girlfriend niece and he fucking date her! What the fucking heck?!

"Okay baby, lets get you change." I heard Tony say grabbing my arm and took me to his bedroom. He open his closet to pick a cloth for me to wear.

"Here, your favorite shirt." He hand me his shirt smiling. I look at him and hug him.

"Sorry. I ruin the dress that you bought for me." I mumble into his chest. I can't help but crying in his arm. He bought this as a gift for my birthday last week.

"It's okay baby, I can buy you another dress. Remember? I'm a billionaire for god sake." He chuckle.

"Just don't cry okay?"

"But-"

"Shhhh. Baby no but. Now, wear this sexy shirt of mine and we can cuddle." He say, more like command.

"But what about the party?"

"Let them enjoy the party and you enjoy my company yeah?" He ask smirking. I can help but smile. Gosh I love this guy. If Steve know about me and Tony, he will definitely kill him. But whatever, I'll kill that woman first before he can kill my man.

(y/n) pov:

I wake up to the hotness of the sun rays burning my skin. Tony's hand wrap protectively around my waist, face an inch from mine. I trace my finger on his perfect jawline touching his soft skin. He look peace when he sleep. He smile when my finger touch his perfect lips.

"Wake up iron ass." I say teasing.

"Good morning to you too Sexy." He say with his husky morning voice.

"Can I get a good morning kiss from you Mr. Iron Ass?" I ask leaning closer to his mouth. He smile and then locking his mouth with mine. That 'morning kiss' turn into a hot make out session.

From my lips to my neck then my shoulder. He is sucking and biting it like a hungry dracula making sure he leaving a mark on me. His hand travel from my breast to a hem of my shirt, well his shirt wanting me to take it off and I did.

"T-Tony"

"Humm"

His finger make it way to my entrance. I gasp when he enter his finger in my pussy that still covered with my underwear.

"Baby, your so wet already. Dreaming about me huh?" He make an eye contact and I can see his smirk.

I want to say something but my mouth cannot form anything except for his name. His touch sending shivers to my spine and I feel so weak. Tony ripped my underwear and enter two of his finger in my already wet pussy and I can't feel anything beside pleasure. He take his other finger to rub my clit and moans escaped from both of our mouth. Oh how I love my name when he say it. He bring his mouth on my nipple sucking it. Every single touch make me greedy.

"T-Tonny... Want 'ore... humm" I beg wanting more pleasure from him.

"What do you want baby girl?" He ask making eye contact with me.

"I want you... Want that little guy in me" I answer.

His finger still curling in me brushing on my g-sport and I swear I wanna cum before he pull his fingers out of me. He lick his finger in a seductive way and fuck it turn me on.

"Trust me baby, 'that guy' is no little and you know it." He say smirking.

"And if you want me in you, you have to beg baby. That's how you have something free." He say while rubbing my clit.

"Fuck Tony, pleaseeee" I beg before moan escaped my mouth.

"Please what baby girl?" He cooed.

"Please fuck me, fuck me with your big cock daddy!"

Tony don't have to tell twice as he position himself in my entrance with his angry thick dick. He enter slowly while grinning looking at me.

"To-Tony, stop teasing... Oh god!"

He thrust in me fast and hard. His finger playing with my clit, rubbing it making me moan with pleasure.

"Shit babe! You're so tight. So good for daddy." He praise.

As Tony thrust become more faster and rough, I'm sure I'm on my high. I swear I see stars. The pleasure he give me make me want him more. I heard him moaning my name and curse words but that was pleasure to hear. His tip keep hitting and brushing my g-spot.

"Babe... mmmhmmh... gonna cu-cum!" My voice is high pitch and I heard Tony groan.

"Hold on baby."

"No... I-I c-can... ahh... please daddyyy!"

"Okay, Cum for me baby. Cum for daddy."

And that is it. I cum all over him. I wrapped my hand on his neck. Both panting heavily. His arm hug my tiny figure tightly.

"Now I can say my proper god morning to you Stark." I say smiling.

Tony just chuckle and peck on my lips. Lazily he climb off bed and went to a bathroom. He then pause at the frame door and looking at me with his devilish smirk.

"Don't wanna come with me?" He ask. I return his smirk with a smile and hop into the bathroom... for round 2.

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(y/n) pov:

I sit down on the island looking at Tony sexily dancing while cooking breakfast for both of us. I laugh at him whenever he do his stupid dance.

"Good morning guys." I heard Bucky say when he sit on the stool. Both Tony and I reply him a 'good morning'.

"You make breakfast Stark?" The soldier ask.

"Yup. You want some Winter man?"

"Sure."

As the three of us chatting and laughing at the kitchen. Steve come into the kitchen with that bitch clinging on his arm. I roll my eyes. Why is she still here? I ignore them and keep shoving my face with blueberry pancake that Tony made.

"(y/n), how many time I tell you that you should sit on the stool and not on the island." Steve scold like a mamma bear he is.

I sigh climb of the island and sit down on the stool without protest. I don't have an energy to argue with my brother. After a quick chat with Bucky and Tony, Steve then start making pancake for him and Sharon. Meanwhile Sharon sit beside me, placing her phone on the island while she eye fucking my brother. Ugh so annoying. Tony eat his food fast, placing his dirty plate in the sink and give me a quick kiss on the cheek before he went downstairs and gone to attend his business meeting. Then Bucky excuse himself to wake up Sam for training. Great. Just. Great.

"Hey, (y/n) I'm so sorry okay about last night." Sharon speak. I just roll my eyes not saying anything. Steve look over his shoulder. When he saw me didn't give any respond, he give Sharon an apologetic look. Like she need it! Bruh. Steve then focus back to his cooking while Sharon start to ripped her mask that she hide in front of Steve and everyone else.

"Don't you dare say anything about me to him." She whisper making me roll my eyes.

"Omg I'm so scare!" I say sarcastically.

"You'll regret it (y/n). If you say a word to Steve, I'll make sure you suffer." She threaten. I just give her a smile and walk away.

You must been questioning things about what secret that she keep right? Well simple. He cheated on him with her own teammate in S.H.I.E.L.D and guess what? She is not other than a Hydra agent. How do I know, it's none of your business. And what make me hate more about this woman is that the idiot brother of mine keep trusting her like she is an angel from heaven.

Sure, no one know that yet. Not about the cheated part but about the Hydra part. Everyone know about the cheated part except for my dumb brother. I still struggling to find an evident about Sharon being an double agent and I'm so close to it. Right now, I'm in Tony's lab sitting about 4 hours searching for the truth about Sharon. It's weird that I didn't see Bruce in the lab today. Not once. But whatever. My fingers dancing on the keyboard finding it ways to click at the right alphabet. And with a last click, all the information about Sharon fucking Carter appear on my laptop screen.

She is sure an undercover agent for Hydra. Now I know why every time we have a mission with her we always failed. Because that is her mission, to make us failed. Such a bitch.

In no time, I quickly call Tony asking for him to come home as soon as possible and meet me at his lab. After 30 minute-ish waiting, he come to the lab and I explain everything about Sharon to him. Tony and I than went to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters to meet Fury. After the information delivered, an upset and furious Fury storm and call all the Avengers to the HQ to having a 'meeting'.

(y/n) pov:

"WHAT? NO SHE CAN'T BE! (y/n), Tony, what the hell are you two thinking by assuming her as an Hydra agent?!" Steve yell and throw a dagger glare to both of us.

"Well, right now we are not 'assuming' her to be a Hydra agent Steve. She is, with the evident!" I say to my soldier brother.

"She can't be..." He whisper. I know he is upset and mad at the same time because he fall in love with that woman. I come to him and give him a hug and surprisingly he hug me back.

Sharon is in the jail under the S.H.I.E.L.D watched. 3 month has passed. Steve is still not over Sharon. Right now, he is sitting at the floor, face moping and eyes looking at the floor.

"Ask you brother to move on (y/n). There is plenty of women out there line up to be with him." Sam say plopping himself on the sofa next to me. Bucky then following after sitting beside of him.

"You tell him yourself."

"Move on punk!" Bucky say.

"Yeah man. Move on. She is a bad guy." Sam say make Bucky chuckle but Steve is Steve, he just roll his eyes. Let me tell you something. Bucky hate Sharon. Me and him always gossiping about Sharon behind Steve's back. But seriously, I don't know what spell that Sharon use on him making him crazy over her.

"Babe?" I heard from behind.

I look at that person and glare at him. He should shut his mouth before Steve kill him with his shield. Oh shit. Steve tilt his face to look at Tony and he look angry.

"Did you just call my sister 'Babe' Stark?" He send Tony an angry look.

"Um... No. Did I call you 'Babe' (y/n)? Eh, you must misheard Spangle." Tony try to quibble. Bucky, Sam and me trying so hard to hold our laugh. He is in a deep shit. Tony sent me a 'help me' look and being a good girlfriend I am, I save his ass.

"Cut the crap Stark, what is it?" I ask.

"Uh, Pete is here tonight and today is his birthday. So I wanna held a birthday party for him. So wanna help me?" He ask with a wide grin on his face.

"Sure. Everything for my 'friend'." I say with a huge smile on my face while Steve send us a glare. I hope he didn't know about us yet. We are 'friend' in his eyes. It's funny when the great Captain America can detected something wrong about the enemy but can't figure out that his own sister dating his teammate.

"Well, I'm sure that you call me not to help you with the party thing." I say looking at Tony when we arrived at his floor.

"Ok, ok you've got me." He say before smashing his lips on mine.

"I just wondering if May are able to attend this party." He say with his famous smirk.

"So you can eye fucking her?" I say sounds jealous. Well maybe I'm jealous. But... Whatever.

"Oho, someone's jealous." he say with a wink and kiss my cheek.

"No I'm not!... Okay maybe a little." I admit and he laugh.

"Hey don't laugh!" I say pouting.

"Actually I wanna play cupid, baby." He say hugging me form behind.

"What do you mean?" I ask confused.

"Your Captain Spangle America Big Ass and May Parker the hot aunt of our beloved Spider-kid. What do you say?" He face me wiggling his eyebrow.

"Hell yes! But the hot part is a no because I'm the hottest one." I say and he laugh.

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Third person pov:

The party start with a loud music beating around. There stood my man with his neat black suit with a red necktie. Hair combed handsomely on his head. His famous sunglasses rest comfortably on his bridge nose. Stood beside of him is Peter Parker himself with his aunt. May is sure beautiful and she is the perfect woman to my brother. Not only pretty but May is also smart and kindhearted.

"Tonieeeee" I say attacking him with a hug.

He hug me back and give me a kiss on my right cheek.

"So this is May huh?" I ask the Spider-ling. The Spider-boy nod and May send me a soft smile.

We talk a little while Tony introduce the shy kid to the people. Then I saw my brother walk to the living room with his best friends not other than James and the falcon guy. His eyes lingering around, maybe searching for me. I wave my hand to him mentioning him to come over.

Steve awestruck when he saw May. His eyes almost come out from the socket. I chuckle looking at my brother.

"Steve, this is May Parker, Peter's aunt." I introduce. I did the same with May. Steve is blushing mess. His face is as red as Tony's iron man suit. I can't help but feel happy for him. I than excuse to give them a little privacy. Actually I feel like a third wheel and the tension is strong. I swear!

I leave and sit down next to Tony who is still talking to Rhodey. He look at me with an amuse smile arching his right eyebrow.

"How is it?" He ask looking at my eyes.

"Everything is good cupid boy." I say grinning looking at my brother and May who is now dancing on the dance floor.

"So, can I have a gift now?" He ask.

"What gift?" I ask confuse.

"Well, I play the roll successfully." He say battling his eyelash.

"Nope." I reply playfully.

"Ouch, at least give me a kiss." He say with a hope.

"Fine." I say leaning toward him and give him a passionate kiss on his lips. After we pull apart, his smile suddenly replace with fear and he gulp. I look at where his eyes darting and shit there stood Steve, ready to attack Tony with his shield.

"Care to explain?" Steve ask.

"Well I think we're busted." He mumble silently.

"Run for your life babe" I say and he did making the others burst of laughing.