#bucky barnes event

[drabbles-mc]

Out of Practice

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

For the Alternate June-iverse prompt: milf/dilf

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, steamy things, reader is a mom, bucky hasn't dated in like 70 years

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: I had no idea what I was going to do for this prompt for the longest time but then tonight this all fell outta me in one sitting lmao. enjoy some cameos from Sam and Tony! And thanks again to @buckybarnesevents and @rookthorne for putting this event together 💖

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Bucky was standing at the bottom of the walkway that led to the main doors of the school. Despite the warmth that came from the late spring weather, he still had on his leather jacket and gloves. He was far from the only person standing out and waiting for the final bell to ring, but he still felt like he stood out. No matter how much time went by that was a feeling he had yet to shake.

He pried his eyes off the cracked concrete beneath his boots when the bell rang, shortly followed by the front doors of the school being pushed open by dozens upon dozens of kids desperate to get out and head home. Many of them were sprinting off towards the buses, but some were making a direct line right where Bucky was standing with the rest of the parents and other family members. He kept his eyes peeled, but he still didn’t see who he was looking for.

A couple minutes ticked by and for a moment he wondered if he had shown up at the wrong place, or on the wrong day. He was about to take his phone out of his pocket when the front door opened up again. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw Morgan walking out, jacket tied around her waist and backpack settled on her shoulders. She was looking up at the woman next to her, the two of them talking as the woman balanced a child who looked like she was just barely old enough to be in kindergarten on her hip.

When Morgan looked away, she immediately saw Bucky. A smile broke out across her face as she threw a hand up to wave, an expression and gesture that he returned. He took a few steps so that he met her right where the walkways met. She walked right up to him, holding both hands out in closed fists. Bucky’s grin widened slightly as he held his fists out as well, tapping their knuckles together before the both pulled their hands back, making an exploding sound and gesture as they did.

Once they completed their ritual, Bucky turned his attention to you. You were smiling at the sight of the two of them, but he could see the questioning look still lingering in your eyes. “You must be Uncle Bucky, then?” you asked, although the answer seemed fairly obvious.

He chuckled, looking briefly at Morgan before he returned his attention back to you. “Yeah, but just Bucky is fine.”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and you did so carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child on your hip as you gave him your name in return. “Hope you don’t mind me bringing her out.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Just like to make sure that everything’s alright when someone new is picking up one of my students.”

“I tried to tell her you weren’t new,” Morgan interjected, her sarcasm making her sound so much like her father despite only being nine years old.

You shook your head with a knowing smile. “New to me, then,” you corrected.

“It’s fine,” Bucky said with a small shake of his head. “I get it.”

“I appreciate that.” You looked back and forth between the two of them, an odd but fitting pair. “I’ll let you two go. It was nice to meet you, Bucky.” You shifted your gaze to the young girl standing beside him. “And I will see you on Monday, Miss Morgan.”

Morgan was already saying goodbye and turning to head off towards Bucky’s care by the time the words left your mouth. Bucky, however, was still staring at you, looking at the way you were balancing the little girl on one hip while you had her backpack on the opposite shoulder, your own bag hanging in the crook of your arm. He knew that this was probably far from the first time you left the school building with your hands full but he still felt like it was wrong to not at least offer to help.

“Do you need help with—”

“I’ve got it,” you reassured him with a smile, taking a step towards the parking lot, “but thank you.”

He didn’t try to offer again, taking your word for what it was worth. Turning, he easily collapsed the distance between himself and Morgan in one stride, and the two of them started walking off towards his car. You heard the two of them talking as they walked away. Or, rather, you heard Morgan talking about her day and Bucky chiming in with a word of acknowledgment. You cast a couple brief looks at them as you walked over to your car, smiling at the sight of them.

You returned your focus to the task at hand as you tried to get your daughter into her booster seat in the back of your car. You weren’t too worried, since she had luckily been a heavy sleeper ever since she was born, but you still tried to be extra careful. You were clicking her seatbelt into place when you heard Bucky’s car engine rumbling to life.

You caught a glimpse through your own car’s windshield as they drove by, Morgan sitting behind the empty passenger seat of Bucky’s car. They were out of you line of sight as quickly as they’d entered it. When they were gone again you set both your bag and your daughter’s on the floor by her feet.

~*~

“Ew, no,” Morgan said as she shook her head, her and Bucky looking at each other through the rearview mirror, “he’s gross. All the boys in my grade are.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Your dad will be happy to hear that.”

“I don’t even want a boyfriend.”

Bucky fought to the urge to give his knee-jerk response which would’ve been, “Well, yeah, you’re fucking nine.” Instead, he asked, “You tell him that?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “He went and asked Chrissy instead.”

“Worked out for you,” Bucky said, throwing his directional on before turning onto the main road away from the school. “You don’t need a boyfriend—you’re fine.”

“Dad says that you need a girlfriend.”

Bucky nearly choking on the breath he was pulling in. His eyes drifted from the road and back to the mirror to look at her. “What?”

“What?” she parroted back to him, blissfully unaware of why he reacted that way. “That’s what he said.”

Bucky was shaking his head, gaze fixed back on the road once more. “Yeah? Well your dad’s a—”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” she asked.

Bucky chuckled, a genuine sound. “Ever? Yeah.”

“This century?”

His eyebrows raised, surprised but also not. “You gotta stop listening to your dad all the time.”

A wide grin blossomed across her face. “But have you?”

He shook his head. “I thought we were cool,” he said sarcastically.

Morgan laughed hard enough at that to usher them into another topic of conversation with the rest of the drive home. Bucky went the long way, swinging through McDonald’s on the way since he was told that was fine this time around. It killed a little more time anyway, which was really what he needed. The only reason that he has the one enlisted to go and pick Morgan up in the first place was because Tony and Pepper were both running late with work. Not terribly so, but late enough that they didn’t want to ask her teacher to stay and wait.

Even with the extra stop planned in, and the most scenic route as possible taken, it still didn’t take them very long to get home. Before either of them could think much of it Bucky was rolling into Tony and Pepper’s driveway.

Bucky had just put the car in park when Morgan jumped out of the car, backpack strap in one hand and happy meal in the other. Bucky shook his head at her, laughing as he got out of the car much slower than she had. He finally felt comfortable enough to take off his gloves, tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans as he walked towards Tony’s porch.

Morgan had left the door opened behind her, so Bucky walked through and closed it as he did. When he looked around the room he saw that Morgan had already made her way over to her father and gotten swept off the ground in a hug.

As Tony was setting her back down on the floor, he asked, “You got some extra fries for me, right?”

Morgan laughed. “No way.”

Tony faked deep offense at her response. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

Bucky piped in. “I didn’t get you any either, for the record.”

Tony smirked. “That much I expected.”

Morgan looked around the room a little more, and when she didn’t see Pepper, she asked, “Where’s Mom?”

Tony gestured deeper into the house. “She’s out back.”

Morgan tossed both her backpack and her McDonald’s box of food onto the counter. “I’m gonna go say hi!” She pointed at Tony. “Don’t eat my fries.” She turned and pointed at Bucky. “Don’t let him eat my fries.”

Bucky gave a small salute. “Yes ma’am.”

When Morgan had scampered out of the room, Tony’s full attention shifted to Bucky. “Thanks for picking her up—I know it was short-notice.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Went okay?”

He nodded. “Teacher came out to make sure I wasn’t some kidnapper, but yeah, it went okay.”

Tony chuckled as he opened the fridge. “Figured she would.” He grabbed a beer for himself and offered one to Bucky, when he declined he shrugged with a suit yourself expression and let the door fall shut.

“Why’s your nine-year-old telling me I need to get a girlfriend?” Bucky asked as he watched Tony pop the cap off the bottle.

Tony didn’t miss a beat. “My guess is because you need to get a girlfriend.”

“Tony��”

“You met her teacher then, right?” Tony shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “She’s single. And cu—”

Bucky’s tone shifted drastically as he repeated himself. “Tony.”

The hand that wasn’t holding the beer bottle was held up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“That why you sent me to pick her up? Is Happy even busy?”

Tony laughed. “Like Happy would ever be too busy to get Morgan from school.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh my fuc—”

“Watch it.” Tony lifted the hand he was holding the bottle with, pointing accusingly at him. “There are little ears in the house.”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t need you playing matchmaker.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the smooth dark stone-top of the island. “And I definitely don’t need you roping in your nine-year-old to help.”

“I actually didn’t tell her to say anything to you.”

“I don’t need you talking to her about my love life at all.”

“I was talking to Pepper about it. But hey,” he took another sip, “little ears hear everything.”

He watched as Bucky chuckled in disbelief. Tony knew that it wasn’t his place to say or do anything, that out of everyone he was probably close to the bottom of the list when it came to people who had the right to give dating advice. Even with that being the case, though, Tony had been watching Bucky muddle through and get along without ever really learning to get close to anyone since everything happened with Steve. He was gone now, and while Bucky might’ve accepted that, he still hadn’t really made any moves to let new people in. A girlfriend wouldn’t solve all of those issues, as Pepper had swiftly told him. But it probably also wouldn’t hurt, as Tony had told her in response.

“Gonna make me go to parent-teacher night next?” Bucky asked, his tone light enough to let Tony know that it wasn’t going to turn into an argument for the time being.

“Don’t be ridiculous—you’re not ready for anything more than an open house.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Thanks.”

They both had plenty more comments to make about the topic but they let it drop as Morgan re-entered the room, Pepper in tow right behind her. Bucky and Tony exchanged a knowing look, one that confirmed that their conversation as on hold for now. Pepper caught it, but knew enough to know not to ask. Instead, she started a new conversation by thanking Bucky for picking Morgan up. He stayed long enough to make a little small talk before excusing himself, making sure to give Morgan another double fist-bump before heading for the door.

“I’ll walk you out,” Tony said, leaving his half-empty beer bottle on the counter.

Bucky knew exactly what Tony was doing, but didn’t say anything. The two of them slipped out the door, and Tony followed him down off the porch and all the way to his car.

When he realized that Bucky wasn’t going to say anything about any of it, he spoke up himself. “I could probably get her number for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? You don’t think she’s—”

“That has nothing to do with it and you know it,” Bucky cut him off. “Just leave it alone, Tony.”

“Mmm.” He shook his head. “Don’t think I can do that. Matter of national security at this point—you’re left unattended an awful lot.”

“And you think I need an elementary teacher to keep me company?”

“She knows how to wrangle kids and keep ‘em in line—sounds perfect for you.”

“Don’t say anything to her.”

Tony stared at Bucky for a long, hard minute. “Fine.”

Bucky didn’t believe it for a second but be also knew that continuing to argue about it wasn’t going to fix anything either. “Thanks.”

They exchanged a quick handshake and a brief goodbye, and soon enough, Bucky was on his way. The drive back to his apartment felt longer than usual, his thoughts wandering in the silence of the car since he didn’t make any move to turn the radio on. He thought about you, not that he would ever give Tony the satisfaction of knowing that, the way you smiled as you balanced your daughter on your hip. He thought about the apparent ease there was between you and Morgan. He thought about your dress and the way it fell just above your knees, the way the bright colors looked so nice and seemed so fitting.

Then he shook his head to dispel the thoughts. Tony was just in his head now, having him overthink about a woman he’d met for all of two minutes. The likelihood of him seeing you again wasn’t very high, not unless Tony started asking him to play chauffer for Morgan a lot more often, and somehow he didn’t really see that happening.

When he walked into his apartment, Bucky was immediately greeted by Alpine running up and rubbing against his legs. He chuckled, crouching down so that he could give him a light scratch behind his ears. Part of it was because Alpine was happy to have his owner home, Bucky was sure. But the other part was about the fact that it was definitely past Alpine’s usual dinnertime. Bucky understood all of that.

“I know,” his metal fingers can down Alpine’s spine, causing him to arch and purr, “I’m late.”

The next few minutes was just Bucky hanging up his jacket, giving Alpine his dinner, and then pulling something out of the freezer to cook for his own dinner as well. While he was waiting for the oven to finish pre-heating, the only sound that could be heard was Alpine crunching on his kibble as he stood above his bowl. Bucky watched him for a moment, a small smile on his face at the simplicity of the life he had now. Something that for a long time he didn’t think he would ever have.

It was a good life. It was quieter now than it had been for a long time—he was almost used to it. But maybe Tony was right, not that Bucky would ever tell him as much in so many words, but there might’ve been something to what Tony had been trying to tell him. A truth that was simpler to ignore because continuing on as he had been required far less work than trying to get to know someone, trying to let someone get to know him.

He pulled his phone out, tempted to search your name just to see what would pop up, what he would be able to learn about you. Then he stopped himself, shaking his head to try and dispel the thoughts. What good would it do? Why was he thinking like you were someone he knew already? Or like you were someone that already knew him? For all he knew, you’d forgotten him already. Hell, for all he knew you had no desire to get to know anyone, let alone someone like him. The beeping of his oven saved him from going down that spiral any further.

~*~

Sam was sitting on the stool to Bucky’s left. The music in the bar was loud, but not so much so that they had to shout to talk to each other. But once Bucky processed the sentence that Sam had just spoken to him, he instantly wished that the music was loud enough so that he couldn’t hear the other man at all.

Bucky pulled a long drink from the beer bottle in his hand, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of it. “Can’t believe he got you in on this shit too.”

Sam shrugged, unfazed by Bucky’s blatant annoyance. “I’m just sayin’, I think the guy might have a point.”

“Since when do you agree with Stark?”

Sam laughed. “I’ll agree with anybody if I think they’re right!” He paused, studied the look on Bucky’s face and then added on with a laugh, “Well, yeah, not you. But other people.”

Bucky tried to keep his annoyed expression but then chuckled. “Fuck you.”

Sam wasn’t going to let the conversation get derailed. “Alright, so you don’t like the girl he was telling you about, so why don’t you—”

“I didn’t say—”

“They got apps for that now. Oh, sorry,” Sam held up his hand in a pausing motion, “Apps are things that you can put on your pho—”

Bucky’s brows knit together. “I know what apps are.”

Sam allowed himself a minute to laugh at his own joke before saying, “So it’s not the girl. Then, what? Afraid you left all your game back in the forties?”

He shook his head, eyes suddenly glued down to his beer bottle. “Sure, yeah. Something like that.”

“Want my advice?”

“No.”

Sam gave it anyway. “Get over it.” He ignored the increasingly annoyed look on Bucky’s face. “Go buy a girl a drink. Ask her for her number. Use whatever corny line you used back in the nineteen hundreds the last time you had to pretend to have some game.”

Bucky didn’t want to laugh but he couldn’t stop himself. Sam might’ve been oversimplifying but Bucky was also vaguely aware of the fact that he was overcomplicating things for himself. “I’ll think about it. But,” he paused to point at Sam accusingly while he grabbed a sip of his beer, “I didn’t have to pretend to have game. I had it—have. I have it.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Riiiight.”

The topic dropped, and they moved onto talking about other things. There were frequent pauses in the conversation, both of them turning to look at people coming into the bar. Neither of them ever thought they would fully break that habit, no matter how often they went out into the world as civilians.

The door let out a quiet chime, and Bucky’s head instinctively snapped in the direction to see who was coming in. His eyes widened and he stopped himself in the middle of the sentence that he was saying to Sam. There was no brain to mouth filter as he let out a quiet, “Shit.”

Sam’s face contorted in confusion as he turned to see what it was that had Bucky reacting that way. He looked over, his confusion immediately shifting into a smug grin when he saw you standing in the doorway. Bucky hadn’t even given Sam a description of what you looked like, but he could tell from Bucky’s reaction that there was no way that you could possibly be anyone else.

“Talk about good timing,” Sam joked.

Bucky was still staring at you, not that you’d noticed, as he spoke to Sam. “Shut up.”

“Now’s the time.”

He fought the urge to shove him off the stool. “I said shut up.”

You were only a couple steps inside the bar, you phone clutched tightly in one hand as you looked around the semi-tight space. The focused furrow of your brow said that you were looking for someone. The tight black jeans and lacy grey top you were wearing said that you were probably looking for your date. There were five million reasons Bucky felt his mouth go dry and none of them were doing him any good.

He saw the rise and fall of your shoulders as you let out a sigh. You typed on your phone for a moment before making your way over to the bar, carefully weaving your way through the clusters of other patrons. The closer you got, the more Bucky hoped that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. You were so focused on getting to the bar and snagging a rare empty seat, that you didn’t even notice that the seat was next to him until after you’d ordered your drink. You wouldn’t have looked in his direction at all if you hadn’t heard someone laughing.

When you turned, the first thing you saw was Bucky, the familiar face and leather jacket. The next thing you noticed was the man on the other side of him, the source of said laughter. You tilted your head as your eyes made their way back to Bucky. You allowed yourself a laugh of your own. “Bucky?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “H-hey. Yeah, hi.”

“So funny seeing you here!” You paused, looking back and forth between him and the man next to him. “How are you?”

He nodded again, pulling the words up one by one. “Good. I’m good. You?”

“I’m, um,” you chuckled awkwardly, “I’m alright, I think? Supposed to be meeting someone here but,” you glanced around, “I don’t see them yet.”

The man on the other side of Bucky leaned across him and held his hand out. “I’m Sam, by the way.” He flashed you a charming grin. “Not the person you were looking for, but figured I’d introduce myself anyway since this guy wasn’t going to.”

You laughed as you told him your name. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The three of you chit-chatted, and you tried not to think too much about the way that Bucky was looking at you. You were putting too much thought into it, you were certain. Maybe you were just projecting, taking all the growing disappointment you were feeling about your supposed “date” still not being there and channeling it into the way that Bucky seemed to be so attentively listening to you.

Taking another sip from the straw in your drink, you checked the time on your phone one more time. Letting out a deep sigh, you looked over at Bucky, and Sam too. “I’m glad I ran into you two tonight, because from the looks of it the person that I came out to see is not showing up.” You shoved your phone back into the pocket of your jeans with a shake of your head.

“He’s an idiot,” Sam chimed in without hesitation.

You laughed and nodded. “I appreciate the sentiment.” You finished off your drink and you didn’t try to dissuade the bartender who was grabbing your glass and heading off to make you another. Looking back at the two of them, you said, “My friends were the ones who convinced me to get on those stupid dating apps anyway.” You shook your head. “Lotta good it did, huh?”

Bucky nodded, shooting a pointed look at Sam as he said, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Sam was laughing, but Bucky noticed the way that he was moving to throw some cash down on the bar. He gathered up his jacket as he got off the stool. “Well, not to be the bearer of more bad news, but I gotta take off.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulders as he walked by. “But you two crazy kids stay out and have some fun. It was very nice to meet you.” He flashed the two of you another grin. “Call if you need bail money. Not me, but, you know, call somebody.”

You laughed as you and Bucky each said goodbye to him. The two of you watched him as he practically skipped out of the bar and out onto the street. Bucky was caught between wishing he could chase Sam down and tackle him, and wishing he could skip right out the door alongside him. There was no buffer between the two of you anymore, and Bucky felt so strangely exposed.

“Sorry about your date,” Bucky finally offered up.

You smiled good-naturedly. “I’m not that heartbroken over it,” you said honestly as the bartender set your fresh drink down in front of you. “My expectations were pretty low, but, you know,” you took a sip, “not so low that I assumed he wasn’t gonna be here.”

Bucky chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“Honestly, I’m just more pissed off that I wasted one of my few free weekend evenings on some guy who didn’t even bother texting me to cancel.”

“Few?”

You smiled as you said, “My daughter. Every other week she’s with her dad. I miss her when she’s gone, so I try to stay busy. Usually with friends, but every now and then it’s some pipe-dream of a date.” You took another sip. “They usually do show up, though, at the risk of making myself sound horrible desperate,” you joked.

Bucky laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

Your smile softened a touch, but it was still there. “Well, thank you for that at least.”

You had every intention of finishing off your drink, paying your tab, and heading right home. You weren’t typically one for staying out all hours in a bar or a club somewhere, even when you were out with your friends. And, as nice as it was that you had a chance run-in with Bucky when everything else seemed to be going wrong, you were still ready to turn it in and go home. Back to your pajamas and fuzzy blankets.

That’s not what happened, however, despite your best intentions. Somewhere along the way you switched from cocktails to soda just for the sake of being able to stay longer without getting too much of a buzz as you talked to Bucky. He wasn’t exactly a chatterbox, per se, and you hadn’t really expected him to be. The two of you managed to keep up a good pace of back and forth regardless of that. He did a little more listening than he did talking but it didn’t seem to bother him. It also made you realize that even though you had your friends, and your fellow teachers at school, there weren’t a whole lot of times when you went out to socialize with other adults. It also didn’t hurt that Bucky was so nice to look at, that he seemed to be just as interested in looking right back at you.

You’d both lost track of time as you sat there, and when you were both finally making your way towards the door of the bar, it was much later than either of you had bargained for. The two of you walked, and Bucky pulled the door open for you. The two of you were mid-conversation when you landed back out on the sidewalk. It was only then that you realized you probably weren’t going to be heading in the same direction.

Bucky watched as you motioned back over your shoulder, the opposite direction from the way he was heading. “I’m parked this way, but, it was really good seeing you. What are the chances, right?” You laughed lightly.

He smiled, nodded. “Yeah. It was, um,” he could feel the words that he wanted to say resting on the tip of his tongue and he was conflicted about whether or not he wanted to actually say them, “it was good to see you again.” He paused, hating every bit of hesitation that he was feeling. “Do you, um, I was wondering,” he was reaching for the pocket of his jacket for his phone as he fumbled his way through the question, “I mean on your next free weekend…”

You felt your face warm as he continued on. You knew where the line of questioning was going, and part of you knew that maybe you should put him out of his misery. But it was sweet, and you were enjoying that. Finally, you nodded. “That’d be nice.”

He let out a sigh of relief as he took his phone out. “Great. Okay, yeah. I’ll…I’ll call you. You know,” he managed a smile with a little more ease, “save you from all the apps.”

You laughed as you typed your name and number in. “You’re a lifesaver.”

In the back of his mind he knew that he should be making some sort of move now. Walk you to your car, give you a hug, something. But if asking for your number was as difficult as it had proven itself to be, he didn’t know what it was going to be like trying to manage anything else. So he took the win, and bid you goodnight.

Over the course of the next couple days, he was caught between wanting to tell both Tony and Sam separately that he’d gotten your number. He thought maybe it would help get them off his back. What he didn’t want, though, was for them to just get on his case about a whole new slew of things. He also didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they’d been right.

So, instead of reaching out to either of them, he texted you instead. It was casual at first, just brief messages here and there. Texting wasn’t his favorite way to stay in touch with people, but he at least recognized that it was what people did now.

He called you once, when he wanted to actually try and make plans to see you. That conversation wasn’t one that he wanted to have over text, and he told you as much. You also found that to be sweet as well. It wasn’t a long conversation, one taking place while you made dinner and your daughter was busy with her toys in the living room. But the two of you settled on a date, a time, and that he would come by your place to pick you up. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much while making pasta.

~*~

“Tony is never gonna let you hear the end of this when he finds out,” Sam said as he sat down at Bucky’s kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky grabbed drinks out of his fridge. “That’s why I haven’t said anything to him about it.”

“Nothing?!”

“No!” Bucky said, breaking down into laughter after a moment. “You gonna tell him?”

“What, you think that we’re texting about you all the time?” Sam shook his head. “Get over yourself.”

Bucky was about to come back with something snarky as per usual when his phone chimed on the counter. Sam looked, too nosey to stop himself. The grin that spread across his face when he saw your name on the screen. At the look on Sam’s face, Bucky’s instinct was to reach and flip the phone over, but he stopped himself. Instead, he grabbed his phone and messaged you back before setting it down.

“You wanna call me while you’re getting ready?” Sam joked. “I’ll help you pick out an outfit. Tell you how to do your hair.”

Bucky chuckled. “Fuck you.”

~*~

He didn’t call Sam before the date. He also hadn’t heard anything from Tony which led him to believe that Sam had been kind enough to keep his mouth shut. That was all well and good, but he wished that it did anything to soothe the nerves that he was feeling as he stood outside your door.

He felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old again as he stood on your front step. He rang the doorbell, flowers clutched tightly in his hand as he waited. He’d spoken to you earlier, and you had seemed excited about it all still. That gave him hope. But again, it still wasn’t enough to eradicate the lingering feelings of anxiety he had.

Another few seconds passed by and then you pulled open the door. You were smiling at him as you were trying to do the latch on your necklace. “Hey! Sorry, I still have to get my shoes on and stuff. Please,” you stepped back and nodded for him to step inside, “come in. I’ll be ready in like, two minutes.”

He smiled as he somewhat nervously followed your instructions, stepping just past the threshold of your house. “Take your time,” he said calmly as he shut the door behind him.

He looked around while you finished putting on your jewelry and went to grab your shoes. He wasn’t sure what he had been picturing your house looking like, but what he saw felt fitting. It was tidy considering how young your daughter was. There were some toys scattered about in patches, framed photos on the walls and drawings tacked onto the fridge by magnets. It was a home in a way that none of Bucky’s places since he came back had ever been.

“Okay,” you said as you reappeared, smoothing out your blouse, “I’m ready. Sor—” you stopped short when you finally noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand. The smile on your face was wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. “Those are beautiful.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, like he’d forgotten that he had them. He held them out to you. “Just figured, you know…”

You smiled as you took them, flitting off to the kitchen so that you could put them in a vase with water. “Thank you.”

As the two of you drove, you could feel him slowly starting to relax. The two of you talked, and you could see the way that his grip on the steering wheel started to become less vice-like. There was something refreshing in the way that he opened the car door for you, and the door to the diner that the two of you had agreed on. He sat down across from you in the booth and you noticed the way that he still had his gloves on as he looked through the menu. You wanted to ask but you didn’t—if he wanted to say something about it you had a feeling that he would.

The conversation felt easy, the same way it had been that night at the bar. The only difference now was the feeling in the air. There was a different kind of tension now that hadn’t been there before. Sure, you’d been attracted to him even then, but that hadn’t been a date. Not like this.

Every now and then if one of you shifted in your seat and your feet or legs would brush. Neither of you said anything about it, but you could feel the upward curl of your own lips as it happened, the occasional pink flush of Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes it’d make him stumble in his sentence and you’d do him the courtesy of not commenting on it.

The two of you were splitting a piece of pie for dessert, something you insisted on because you knew the woman who baked them for the diner. It wasn’t as though Bucky put up any great fight about it. The closer the two of you got to finishing it, the more you engaged in low-stakes warfare, dueling with your forks over the pieces with the best crust-to-filling ratio.

“You can have the last bite,” you conceded with a laugh, leaning back in the booth.

“Oh, come on,” he joked, “it doesn’t feel good to win by forfeit.”

You laughed, warmth blossoming up your neck and across your face. “It’s not forfeit. Think of it as, I don’t know,” you drummed your fingers against the tabletop, “me being nice since it was your first time here.” You paused, studying the amused look on his face. “That better?”

He shrugged, a smirk on his face. “Little bit.”

The two of you walked back out to his car, and you found yourself walking much closer to his side than you had been on the way in. Your arm brushed against his as the two of you walked, and you found yourself about half a step away from leaning into his side.

He reached to open the car door for you, but before he could you leaned back against it so that you were facing him. You let one arm hang by your side, with the other you brought your palm so that it rested against his chest, pads of your fingertips pressing lightly against the leather.

Bucky almost pulled away out of reflex, but he didn’t. “Yes?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing, nothing.” You let your hand drop, the pads of your fingers dragging for a moment before your arm was back at your side once more. You moved just enough so that he could open the door again for you. “Thank you.”

Bucky walked you up to the door of your house, and he felt like his heart was beating clean up into the back of his throat. He didn’t remember dating being this nerve-wracking before. You seemed perfectly unfazed, though as you sauntered up and slipped your key into the lock.

“You wanna come in?” you offered as you opened the door. “Have a drink?”

It took more effort to swallow than it should have. “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

You chuckled. “If you don’t want to—”

“I do,” he reassured, his voice earnest.

Your smiled grew. “Okay.” You stepped and waved him in with you. “C’mon.” You noticed the way that he still had his jacket and gloves on when you came back out of the kitchen with a bottle in each hand. You handed one over to him. “Nothing fancy, but it’s also usually just me drinking them, so…”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

There were a few beats of silence, each of you sipping out of your bottles before you said, “You don’t do this a lot, do you?”

His eyes widened for a moment, slight panic. “What?”

Your smile was warm as you gestured with your hand that held the bottle. “This. Dates. Not…not your thing, is it?”

He held the bottle between both his hands. “I’m…out of practice, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “That noticeable?”

You shook your head. “Not really. You just seemed, I don’t know, a little nervous. And I don’t know why a guy who looks like you would have any reason to be nervous on a date other than…”

“Other than I don’t go on them,” he finished with a soft laugh.

Your face heated up as you smiled. “Kinda.”

“How’d I do?” he asked, mostly joking.

You stepped in closer to him, noticing a different kind of tension in his body. “You’re doing great.”

He huffed out a laugh but it was much softer than he intended, betraying more of his real feelings than he bargained for. “This part?” He made a small gesture between you. “This part I’m really,” he forced out a puff of air through his teeth, “yeah.”

There was a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Want some help?”

He laughed but he didn’t say no, didn’t move away. He swallowed hard as you took the bottle from his hand and set them both on the coffee table in your living room. He was fighting hard to say something—ideally something smooth but at this point he would’ve settled for just about anything. Within seconds you were standing close to him again, bodies a breath away from being pressed flush against each other. Your hands rested on his chest for a moment, and you waited to see if he would change his mind and pull away—you were giving him the chance. But then you felt his hands tentatively land on your hips and you smiled, your body easing against his. You brought one hand up to the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“Not so bad,” you asked softly, “right?”

He shook his head, finally forcing out a quiet, “No, it’s not.”

You smiled and leaned in, lightly pressing your lips to his. It was delicate, fleeting—you were pulling away as quickly as you’d leaned in. The sliver of space left between your lips and his was the silent ask for him to let you know if this was the end of the night or not. He could pull away from you, no harm no foul, or he could lean in and kiss you again and figure it out from there.

It felt like you were both holding your breath for a moment, faces just too close to be able to get a good look in each other’s eyes. You were about to pull back to really look at him when he leaned in and kissed you, more conviction than the quick gesture from before. You readily gave into him, hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his head to keep him pulled to you. As his lips moved against yours, one of his hands slid so that it was resting at the center of the small of your back.

The two of you stayed like that in the middle of your living room, all locking lips and wandering hands. You would’ve let the entire night fall away spent just like that and been more than fine with it. When the two of you finally came back up for air, when Bucky pulled away from you enough to really look into your eyes, you saw that more than anything he was surprised. Maybe it was at you, maybe it was at himself, but regardless it was there. Underneath that, though, you could see that there was something more. His hand that wasn’t on the small of your back came up to cup your chin, the leather of his gloves smooth to the touch against your skin. He tilted your chin just slightly and then your lips were back on his again.

Out of instinct you tugged down the zipper of his jacket. Your hands came up to his shoulders, getting ready to push his jacket down off of them. It was only then that he pulled away from you again, breathless as he desperately searched your face.

“What?” you asked gently, pausing your movements.

“Nothing, nothing. I,” he pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting…I just…”

“If it’s too much,” you said, taking a small step back, “we can—”

“No,” he stopped you short, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just…” He took a breath. “Do you know? Who I am?”

You chuckled. “You’re friends with Iron Man and Falcon. I,” you shrugged, “I connected some dots along the way.”

He laughed, a sound of relief. “A lot of people don’t…you know…”

“A lot of people don’t have people from The Avengers dropping off school snacks once a week.” You paused and let both of you laugh. Allowing your tone to get a little more serious, you said, “I know, Bucky,” you moved once more to push his jacket down off his shoulders, “and it’s okay.”

He allowed you to do it, allowed his jacket to drop to the floor. Even with the long-sleeve shirt that he had on underneath, you could see the difference between his arms. You brought your hands to his, helping him pull the gloves off next. He was holding his breath—you could tell. When his gloves were off you ran your fingers along each of his palms, skin and metal, with equal delicate care.

When you looked into his eyes again you saw the way he was looking at you—bewildered, eager. You brought one hand back to his face again, urging him back towards you. It was a cue that he gladly took, kissing you with fervor. His hands were on your sides, and when he felt the way your other hand was running up his arm, he couldn’t stop himself, from letting his hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

It’d been so long, he realized as his hands roamed your sides and back, since he’d last felt someone like this. When your fingers slid underneath the collar of his shirt, splaying across what they could reach where the nape of his neck turned stretched into his shoulders, he also realized that it’d been a long time since he’d let someone feel him like this too.

All the nerves, the tension of the night, it all started to melt away as he felt you reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt to pull off over his head. He didn’t want to stop you, and he knew that that meant something. Maybe they’d all been right—maybe there was something to letting someone else in again. As he felt the warmth of your palms against his skin, he could only hope that the rest of it felt this good too.

[thornsnvultures]

making time

Bucky Barnes x plus size!fem!Reader

summary: Bucky takes advantage of a slow work day to bend you over your desk.

cw: 1.1k words, 18+, Bucky has a filthy mouth, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, (spoiler: twist ending 👀, dad!bucky)

a/n: written for @buckybarnesevents connect 4 june-iverse. the prompt I used for this one was my #3 "co-workers". I seem to have a problem with not not putting a twist on the prompt lol sorry 😅 moodboard by me, divider by @/saradika

The click of your office door locking behind you sends a thrill down your spine. There's not much time. Minutes is all Bucky has to show you how much he needs you.

It's not often the two of you get time alone. Always busy, always making sure the Boss is happy. Your workload is constantly overflowing. But right now it's just you and him and he's not wasting any time.

You moan Bucky's name into his ear when he lifts you up and knocks the papers on your desk to the floor.

"Hope those weren't important," he says as he trails hot wet kisses down the column of your neck. You know he doesn't give a damn about any papers when he's tugging your shirt up and over your breasts, only lifting his mouth from your supple skin for a moment to remove the offending article.

His hands cover your breasts, cupping and squeezing them through the lace of your bra, the one he knows you wore just for him, just to tease him.

"Fuck, you're so perfect."

Bucky tugs back the lace to swirl his tongue around the your nipple, the bud tightening from the cool air and his hot tongue on your skin.

"Please," you whine as he rocks his bulge against your core. He's got you pinned to your desk under his weight and you can barely move but your hips move in time with his thrusts, desperate for him to fill you. "Bucky, I need you. Hurry," you tug at his hair when he bites at your breast, gasping from the pain and feeling your panties growing stickier with your need at the same time.

"I know, sweetheart. I know," his hands run down your sides giving your tummy a squeeze before tugging the hem of your skirt up your soft thighs until it's bunched up around your waist. He doesn't bother taking your soaked panties off all the way, his movements too hurried to care if they make it to the floor.

You're looking up at him as he stares down at your pussy, creamy and pulsing, waiting for him to spread you open.

"Such a pretty pussy," Bucky slides two thick fingers through your folds, up and down, lightly nudging your clit until you're gasping and twitching. With your legs trapped and pushed up towards your shoulders, Bucky pounds his fingers in deep. The gooey sound of your pussy alone nearly pushes you over, but it's the way Bucky twists his fingers, curling them up against the roof of your cunt that sends you over the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let go for me. Need you dripping so you can take this fat cock."

It takes everything in you not to scream when you release over Bucky's hand. You've surely made a mess of your desk below you, but all you care about is having him inside you.

"Now, Bucky, please," you sob. "I need it."

"Shh, I got it right here for you, baby."

Bucky pops open his pants, releasing his cock from its confines. His pumps the shaft once, twice, a bead of precum pooling at the tip before tapping it on your clit. You jump from the light touch and a moment later Bucky's lining himself up with your quivering hole, pressing the bulbous tip in slowly.

"Fuck, look at you, sucking me in so good. Such a hungry little pussy. You gonna take it all, sweetheart?"

You can't speak, just frantically nodding, mouth open wide as Bucky slides in, inch by inch. By the time he's bottomed out he's leaning over you, pressing your legs deeper into your chest so he can kiss you, his hips grinding into you, making himself at home in your cunt. Because it is his home. He belongs there.

"Fuck me, Bucky. Please," you use what little air you have left in you to beg him to move, clawing at his still clothed shoulders.

He gives you one last kiss on your forehead before absolutely pummeling you with his cock. Harsh slaps filling the room as he slams into you, pushing you up your desk with every thrust.

Bucky holds you down, keeping you still with one hand while the other works your clit until you're at the edge again.

"This creamy little pussy is all mine," he growls. You frantically nod your head as his thumb circles your clit. "Mine to use whenever I want. Yeah?"

"Yes! Yes, all yours," you gasp.

"Then come for me. Come on my cock, baby."

Bucky quickly covers your mouth before you let out the shout you can't hold back any longer and you scream into his palm. You can feel him deep in your guts, pulsing and grinding his own shuddering release deep in your core.

Bucky pants above you, sweat sliding down his temple. You keen as he eases out of you, his seed following not long after in thick globs that trickle out of you and land on your desk. Another thing to clean, but you can't find it in you to care.

Your legs are still spread wider open on your desk, you're too gelatinous to move at the moment. Bucky bites his lip, taking in the sight of you used and sated as he grabs some tissues from a box on your desk and cleans you up. Bucky tosses the soiled tissues and helps you shimmy your skirt back into place before giving your ass a firm tap.

"Better?," Bucky asks as you sit up, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala bear.

"Mm-hmm," you sigh into his kiss as he cradles your head in his hands. "Just what I needed."

"I know when my baby's stressed."

You smile at Bucky and lean in for another kiss when someone bangs on your office door.

"Mom! Are you in there? I can't find dad and I want a corndog!"

You collapse against Bucky's chest and groan.

"Next time we're getting a hotel room," you rub your face into Bucky's solid chest.

"Mom!"

"You heard the Boss, you're on corndog duty," Bucky chuckles pointing his thumb towards the door.

"I'm coming!," you shout, rolling your eyes at Bucky before hopping off your desk, your legs still buckling under you.

Bucky follows you out of the room. Your son is gone, likely waiting impatiently for you in the kitchen. Bucky walks behind you, his hands curving around your hips as you go.

"This weekend. We'll send him off to Rebecca's, get a hotel room. No. That bed and breakfast you like with the hot tub," he smirks as he whispers into your ear. "Sound good? A little vacation from all this hard work?"

"Sounds fantastic," you sigh as Bucky presses a kiss to your jaw.

"Good," Bucky gives your ass another playful smack and pushes you towards the kitchen. "Go. I'll clean up your office so you can get some actual work done."

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I sense a raise coming your way," you tease and wink at him as you walk down the hall.

[buckybarnesevents]

ALTERNATE JUNE-IVERSE 2024

You read that correct, little astronauts!

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞-𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 is back for 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝟐 in 2024!

Things are operating very similar to the first round, but please click the Read More below to refresh yourself on the way this event runs.

RULES

Be sure to check out the blanket event rules found HERE.

Due to the nature of all media and works within this event, it is only for those that are 18 and older – upon signing up you acknowledge that you are not a minor.

Any kind of hate (kink bashing/shaming, harassment, toxic behaviour, etc.) will not be tolerated at any point. There will be no warnings given and if proven to have exhibited any disagreeable behaviours, you will be removed from the event.

Tag your works accordingly. We expect explicit works, and that will contain squicks, triggers, etc.  We believe in Kinktomato here. YKINMKATOK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK) but you are responsible for advising our readers what to expect. 

This event, as always, is open to any and all pairings that involve our favourite murder muffin! If you’re finding that inspiration isn’t coming to you with just Bucky, we will also allow up to two squares per card to feature a different Sebastian Stan persona (Sebastian himself, Steve Kemp, Max Burnett, etc.)

The AU’s are entirely up to your interpretation, so long as they are featured prominently in your creation.

Read our FAQs thoroughly for event conduct, swapping prompts, schedule and more!

FAQs

What is a Connect Four event? 

Simple! It’s very similar to a Bingo Event, where you will receive a card with four categories.  

What happens if we finish our card? 

You can request additional cards! Please only request a new card once you have finished your current card. If you are not happy with the prompts on your card, please request a swap for that square/those squares. You can request one swap per card, up to four squares (yes, you can ask for a whole new card).

If there's a square you don't vibe with, please use our Square Swap Form to begin the process of either requesting up to 2 new squares, or an entirely new card. The email must include your username, card number and the square + prompt you are purging from your card. 

Can we use a fill for another event as well (ie. another bingo, etc)?

Absolutely! So long as the other event allows it, we have no rules against cross-posting.

How do I post to the AO3 collection? 

Under collections (when posting), type in Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse or Connect4AU

You can also add your work directly from the collection by going to https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Connect4AURound2 and selecting “post to collection” on the top right. 

What fills are accepted?

Any creative media is accepted:

Fics Moodboards Digital / traditional art (sketches, too)! Playlists Etc. 

If there is a medium not listed that you want to create and you’re not sure about, shoot us an ask and we will add it to the list!

All work must be newly uploaded to count towards the fill (no entering a fic you published a few months ago, for example). They may count towards already existing AU’s that you write for (a new chapter for an ongoing fic), or they can be something brand new – it is entirely up to you.

ALL ENTRIES MUST BE YOUR OWN WORK. 

What pairings are allowed?

Any. Whether that be /Reader, /Steve, /Reader/Steve, /Natasha, /Clint – so long as Bucky is still the main character.

Is there a limit to submissions?

Absolutely not. You are free to create as many works / pieces of media that you feel inspired for – whether that be 5 fics for a Mafia AU square, or 10. It does not matter.

Schedule:

19th of January – Signups open

WHENEVER you receive your card, you can begin posting

1st of June – Submissions close

You can sign up to this event from the 19th of January right through until the end – keep in mind that we are aiming for cards to be in your inbox within 3 days of you signing the form – though we are only human, there may be delays.

If you have concerns or if it takes longer than 5 days, please email us or tag rookthorne / buckyismybicycle on the discord server, and we will check the progress.

[andrea1717]

The Last Days | The First Days

All Caps Bingo Round One @allcapsbingo

Card: AC1045

Square: B5 | Monthly Mission "Love is Love"

&

Bucky June iverse @buckybarnesevents

Card: C4041

Prompt: C3 | Singer

Moodboard by the wonderful @smutconnoisseur ♥️

Read it here...

(please note that my works are only available for registered readers - please consider getting an account 🥺)

[stuckyhistoricalfiction]

Sign Ups Are Still Open!!!

[winterarmyy]

Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play  nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks. 

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind  "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

[holylulusworld]

Cat shows

Title: Cat shows

Written for @buckybarnesevents HotBuckySummer Week 9: Free Week

Summary: You’re in trouble.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader; Alpine x Reader

Warnings: crack!fic, fun, fluff

A/N: A random drabble.

Catch up here: Shopping trips

“Mrs. Barnes, your husband is here to bail you out,” the cop mutters under his breath. You refused to leave the interrogation room without your cat. You fought tooth and nail, telling them you’re going to sue them if they don’t bring Alpine back to you.

You reluctantly follow the cop out of the interrogation room, grumbling under your breath. Arresting you was unnecessary.

“Doll, there you are,” Bucky jocks toward you. “I was worried sick when you didn’t come home. I thought you wanted to have lunch with your friends, and you were just gone. Alpine too.”

“Oh, yeah…that,” you chuckle. “My friend got this crazy idea to go to this cat show. She said Alpine is too pretty to hide.”

“Where’s Alpine?” Bucky looks at the cop standing next to you. “You! Where is my cat?” The cop swallows thickly when Bucky steps closer. He didn’t miss that your husband is the former Winter Soldier.

“Uh—the cat is…uh,” he stammers. The cop starts to sweat seeing the angry look on Bucky’s face. “The cat will be right there, Mr. Barnes.

You watch the cop run off, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry, Buck. This is all my fault. If only I didn’t listen to my friend. I find these shows stupid and hate how they treat the pets but Alpine looked so pretty with their new collar.”

“What happened?” Bucky gently cups your face. “Baby doll, you got to tell me what happened. I can only help you if I get all the information.”

“Okay,” you sigh deeply. “I attended that cat show with Alpine for fun. We weren’t that bad. Alpine looked cute, and we got a nice ribbon. We didn’t win, but it was fun. Alpine even won some cat food.”

“Alpine won food,” Bucky snickers. “How did you end up at the police station if you won cat food at a show?”

“Uh-“ you drop your gaze and sigh again. “There was this bitch, the one who won all the competitions. She wanted the ribbon Alpine won too, and the food. I told her to leave Alpine alone.” You sniff and glare at the cop carrying Alpine in a pet crate. You can hear Alpine hiss at the man, and smirk.

“I sense there is more to this story, doll,” Bucky presses on. He quirks a brow and you throw your hands up. “Baby, tell me everything.”

“She said Alpine, my pretty princess, and queen of our castle, looks like a mangy stray. She wanted me to give her the ribbon and the food.” You grit your teeth seeing the woman and her spoiled cat walk toward you and Bucky. “I told her if she wants the food so badly, she can have it and—” you grin at Bucky. “I threw it at her.”

“You threw cat food at the lady,” Bucky snorts. He watches the arrogant woman pass you by and laughs. “At least you didn’t threaten to kill her.”

“I was tempted,” you giggle when Bucky snatched the box with Alpine out of the cop’s hands. He rips the box open to free Alpine. Alpine lifts their head and slowly walks toward Bucky, hissing at the cop as they pass him by.

“Come here, punk,” Bucky says as he crouches down to help Alpine jump on his shoulder. “There you go, Alpine. Did you miss me and mommy.” Bucky asks while slowly getting back up.

“Aw, I bet Alpine missed me,” you say. Looking Alpine all over, you sigh. At least your cat didn’t get hurt.

“Sir, you should talk to your wife,” the cop mutters because Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him. “Next time she won’t get away so easily.”

Bucky turns toward the cop like in slow motion. He cocks his head and stares the cop down. Your husband doesn’t say a word. It’s unnecessary because the man murmurs something before walking off.

“You still got it in you,” you purr his name and pat his chest. “You’re scary as shit when mad, baby.” You take his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Let’s get Alpine home. Our champion deserves the best food.”

“Next time you want to throw cat food at someone insulting Alpine, give me a call.”

“See, that’s why I love you,” you giggle as you walk out of the police station, holding hands with your husband. “You’re ready to throw cat food at ladies messing with me and Alpine…”

Tags in reblog.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'

Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing. 

First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes. 

Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up. 

Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he’d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too. 

Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry. 

“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee. 

“Just doing a stock check.” 

“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls. 

“He?” 

“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him. 

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink. 

“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.” 

Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face. 

“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?” 

“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows. 

Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play. 

“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?” 

Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it. 

“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again. 

“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?” 

“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile. 

FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky. 

It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back. 

Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind. 

He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed. 

Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run. 

Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back. 

Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt. 

The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind. 

Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight. 

Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?” 

At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms. 

Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack. 

“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest. 

Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten. 

She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist. 

In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms. 

“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over. 

“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands. 

Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.” 

Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe? 

“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair. 

An omega? 

Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide. 

It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.

Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe. 

Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky. 

Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose. 

“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin. 

“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”

Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly. 

“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife. 

Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before. 

You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch. 

Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them. 

It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them. 

It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling. 

Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield. 

“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm

“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!” 

The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body. 

“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused, 

“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.” 

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin. 

“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing. 

Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more. 

The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing. 

A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level. 

There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.

The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly. 

The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply. 

Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin. 

It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly. 

“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again. 

The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door. 

“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue. 

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both. 

“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home. 

“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”

In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away. 

Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over. 

“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.” 

You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest. 

The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.  

Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea. 

“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side. 

Steve and Sam could only stare. 

“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.” 

It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side. 

“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside 

“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?” 

Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place. 

You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much. 

“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low. 

“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist. 

He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.” 

You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up. 

Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair. 

Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath. 

“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you. 

“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.” 

You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you. 

“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil. 

“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back. 

It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely. 

“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again. 

“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air. 

“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.

Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender. 

“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”

Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm. 

“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back. 

[yourbuckies]

@catws-anniversary | To the End of the Line - Devotion

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓼ix.

bucky barnes and mixed signals.

it starts with little things - bucky not answering your texts right away, the curt responses when he does, and how he seems distracted whenever you’re together, like his mind is elsewhere. at first, you try to brush it off; he’s a busy guy, after all. but as days turn into weeks, it gets harder to ignore the nagging feeling that something’s changed.

you start to pull back, giving him space, thinking maybe that’s what he needs. your texts become less frequent, your smiles a little more forced. you don’t want to crowd him if he doesn’t want you around. you start avoiding his gaze, afraid of what you might see in those blue eyes - disinterest, or worse, regret.

the silence stretches between you, a gulf growing wider with each passing day. it feels like your heart is constantly in your throat, an ache settling in your chest as you wonder if he’s slipping away.

bucky’s the one to finally notice. he’s been caught up with missions, the weight of responsibility pulling him in a dozen different directions, but the sudden distance you’re keeping isn’t something he can ignore. it’s like you’re slipping through his fingers, and he doesn’t know why.

one night, he finds you sitting alone on the couch, staring blankly at the tv. there’s a heaviness to the air, and he can’t stand it any longer. “doll,” he says softly, his voice rough around the edges. “what’s goin’ on? you’ve been… different.”

you don’t look up, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “nothing’s going on,” you murmur, but your voice betrays you, trembling with the effort to keep it together.

“don’t do that,” he says, stepping closer, his brows drawing together in concern. “don’t shut me out.”

there’s a moment of silence before you finally look up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “that’s rich, coming from you,” you say, a small, humorless laugh escaping your lips. “you’ve been shutting me out for weeks, bucky. barely talking to me, acting like i’m not even there half the time…”

his frown deepens, a flash of confusion crossing his features. “i’ve just been busy - there’s been a lot goin’ on with the team and - ”

“i get that,” you interrupt, your voice cracking. “but you don’t even seem to want to be around me anymore.” your gaze drops to your hands, your shoulders sagging as if a weight’s pressing down on you. “i thought… maybe you were losing interest.”

bucky’s heart lurches at the raw pain in your voice, the guilt hitting him like a freight train. he crosses the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of you so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “no,” he says firmly, his hands reaching out to cradle your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “no, doll, that’s not it at all.”

you shake your head, tears spilling over despite your best efforts. “then what is it, bucky? because it felt like you didn’t want me around. like… like i was a burden.”

his breath catches in his throat, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice a desperate whisper. “you could never be a burden. not to me, sweetheart.” his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as if trying to convey what he hasn’t been able to say. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. “i didn’t realize… i’ve just been so caught up with everything, i didn’t see how it was affecting you. i never meant to make you feel like that.”

you sink into his embrace, the familiar warmth and steadiness of him calming the ache in your chest. “it just… hurt,” you admit quietly. “i didn’t know if you still wanted this. wanted… us.”

bucky pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands as he meets your gaze with a fierce intensity. “of course i want us,” he says, the words rough with emotion. “you’re the best damn thing in my life, doll. i’m sorry i made you feel any different.”

his thumb brushes away a tear trailing down your cheek, and you close your eyes, leaning into the touch, the relief washing over you like a wave. when you open them again, his expression is soft, but there’s something else there too - an unspoken promise that he’s not going to let this happen again.

he shifts, lifting you effortlessly into his lap as he settles back against the couch, his arms holding you securely against his chest. you curl into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck, and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“i’m right here,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “and i’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? we’re in this together.”

you nod, wrapping your arms around his middle, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear soothing the last remnants of your doubt. “okay,” you murmur, your voice small but certain.

he holds you tighter, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as you relax into him completely. “you don’t ever have to worry ‘bout me losin’ interest,” he adds quietly. “not in a million years.”

you tilt your head up to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the tears that still cling to your lashes. “promise?”

“promise,” he says, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you, slow and tender, like he’s sealing that vow between you. when he pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, and there’s a quiet, comforting sense of relief that settles between you both, as if the distance that had grown had never existed at all.

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[drabbles-mc]

Turn of the Tide (1/2)

Pirate!Stucky AU

Summary: After years apart thinking that they would never see each other again, Steve and Bucky come face to face under circumstances neither of them ever would have dreamed of.

Warnings: 18+, minor blood/injury, angst (with a happy ending), pining, alcohol

For the Alternate June-iverse prompt: Pirates

Part 2 can be found HERE

Word Count: 9.3k (oops)

A/N: First of all, thank you for @buckybarnesevents and @rookthorne for putting this event together again! Without y'all and your amazing cards/prompts, I never would've tried to tackle something like this and I had SOOO much fun doing it. So thank you so much. Kisses to you both 💕 I'll be posting part 2 sometime within the next week!

MCU Taglist: @artemiseamoon @garbinge (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

They were hardly more than boys when Steve had lost him. No matter how many years went by, no matter how many times people told Steve that what happened wasn’t his fault, he never believed it. He’d long since lost count of the number of times that he had set foot on a ship since then, but it didn’t matter—every time it happened there was a pang of guilt that went through him.

It had been the perfect mess of circumstances. They were young. Strong, but still young and there was a certain type of control that even the strongest boys would only garner with age and they hadn’t yet. That wasn’t something they ever considered, though, their confidence bolstered from knowing the ships like the backs of their hands. Whether it was calm waters or riveting storms, they always moved with the assurance of men who had it all under control. Most of the time they had someone looking over their shoulders to make sure that things didn’t get out of hand. It was usually Steve’s dad—the ships were his after all. The man had a sixth sense for when the two of them were getting out of control or close to it and he always showed up to reel them back in just in time.

He had tried, too, the night that they lost James. The winds were picking up, the waters were getting rougher. He knew that it was spelling out bad news, but he could still hear the chatter and laughter between the two boys out on the deck. He warned them, telling them to get inside, telling them to leave the storm prep to the men who had been doing this with him since before either of them was born.

Steve nodded, immediately ready to follow the direction. More often than not that was how it went. James had nodded as well, but there was also a look in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he wasn’t prepared to just sit back and let everyone else get to have all the fun. He was young enough and inexperienced enough to still consider it fun.

James had always had that little bit of an edge to him. From the moment Steve turned up with him at home one evening when they were small. Steve’s parents didn’t have to ask James many questions to quickly pull together that he was a boy in need of some stability, a place to be that might help keep him out of trouble. They took him in as much as they could, as much as James would let them. It worked—he brought Steve out of his shell as they got older, and Steve kept him from getting too carried away a lot of the time. There were some times, though, like the night of the storm, that Steve’s starry-eyed admiration and love for the boy he’d grown up alongside of got the better of him. James would give him that little smirk, would make a little bit of a coaxing motion with his hand, and Steve would give right into him.

It'd been years and not a day had gone by that Steve didn’t kick himself for giving into it that night. He was just a kid, and there wasn’t anything that he really could’ve done, but he knew that it was always going to haunt him. He could still hear the thunder, feel the intense rocking of the ship. If he shut his eyes for too long when he thought about it, he swore he could feel the rain pelting against his skin, wind beating against his face. He felt the way that he reached for James’s hand, the way their fingertips just barely grazed but it wasn’t enough. He heard the scream that he let out as he fell, hated the way it was the last thing he ever heard of him.

Steve always inevitably thought about the way that if his father had just been a few seconds later, if he hadn’t gotten there in time, Steve would’ve leapt right over the edge in after James. It would’ve been futile in the darkness and the rough waters, but Steve had still been ready to do it. A couple second’s worth of a difference and Steve wouldn’t be standing on the deck of that same ship all those years later, still taking orders from his father, still carrying the guilt on his shoulders along with everything else.

He stood there staring at the edge of the deck, knowing exactly where he’d been standing that night, one rock of the ship away from going over the edge just like James had. There were no prints left behind from his boots but he could still see them plain as day.

He was dragged out of his waking nightmare by the feeling of someone’s hand coming and clamping down on his shoulder. He turned to see who it was, a tight smile coming across his face when he saw it was Sam. Sam had come along a couple years after they lost James, back when Steve still thought there was a possibility of his best friend showing up again. Sam was kind, helpful. He didn’t have that same type of defiant streak that James had had which was a relief to Steve’s father and the rest of the men running the crew. As time went on, he and Sam got along well enough, but he never let anyone in like he had with James. How could he?

Sam knew it all, and never seemed to take anything to heart. He didn’t let the distance faze him. “Think they might be leaving you in charge.”

Confusion flooded Steve’s features. “What?”

Sam nodded towards the ramp that led down to the dock. “Captain Rogers wasn’t feeling well, they said. But we still have to make the run.”

Steve gestured towards the cabin. “What about—”

“They said it was gonna be you.” Sam took his hand from Steve’s shoulder and let it fall back to his side. “Next Captain Rogers. Was always going to happen, wasn’t it?”

Steve chuckled good-naturedly. “It’s one trip my father isn’t well enough to come on himself. Hardly me taking over.”

“Gotta start somewhere. Maybe if this goes well…” he trailed off, knowing that Steve would fill in the blanks.

“You still want to go, Wilson?”

Sam’s smile was bright, genuine. “Gonna need a right hand—of course I still want to come.”

Steve left Sam and the rest of the crew to continue with their preparations for departure while he slipped off to have a conversation with his father, confirm that what Sam had told him was actually the truth and not just a misunderstanding. It didn’t take much, though. The moment that he walked into his father’s bedroom, he could tell by just taking one look at the man that he was too sick to be on the ship for the next trip they had planned, no matter how straight-forward or brief. Steve didn’t stay and talk for very long. He knew the route—it was their usual trade run. Very rarely did they have any issues with the traveling itself, and the crew was steady and consistent. As long as their usual vendors were there when they arrived, everything should go perfectly according to plan even if Steve was the one at the helm instead of his father.

The little pangs of guilt that went through him whenever he went onto the ship went away faster than usual this time around. He had more to preoccupy his mind this time, able to stay busy. He’d been watching his father do this his whole life, could recite it all from memory at any given point if someone asked, but it was different when he was the one who actually had to do it. It felt good.

The first day of sailing had gone by without incident. The waters were calm and it looked like it might even stay that way. The crew hardly batted an eye when Steve was the one who started giving out orders. There were a few jokes made, all in jest with no malice to be found, but other than that everyone went along like it was business as usual. Steve supposed that in a way, it was.

The sun was starting to set on the second night. Steve could see it in the clouds that there was the potential of inclement weather, and possibly rough waters. They had planned ahead enough that anchoring for one night wasn’t going to set them terribly behind. It would be safer to do that rather than trying to sail through a storm and losing everything. Even if he hadn’t been heading things up on his own for the first time, he would’ve suggested airing on the side of caution. It was his default now, and most of the crew knew it. They also knew better than to try and argue or convince him otherwise.

It was late, the sun completely gone. The stars shone overhead but before long the wind would be blowing in clouds that would cover them up. The breeze was already strong enough to begin roughing up the water. It wasn’t terrible yet, but as he felt the ship start to sway, he wondered how bad it was going to get.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard Sam coming up behind him. It wasn’t until Sam’s boots hit the wood of the stair that Steve was sitting on that he realized it all. Steve snapped his head to look at him, and Sam was just staring down at him with a smile on his face. There was no denying the exhaustion in Sam’s expression, and Steve was sure that he looked much the same. It was a good day but even good days were tiring.

Steve wasn’t expecting Sam to plop down on the step next to him, but he did. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Rather than offering a verbal ice breaker, Sam held out the bottle in his hand, offering it to Steve. He accepted it, fingers curling around the neck of it. He brought it up to his lips and took a sip, letting the liquor scorch its way down the column of his throat.

He brought it back to his lips to take a second sip and all he could think about in that moment was James. He thought about the nights the two of them spent up on the neck, thinking that they had been so sneaky pilfering liquor from his father. There was no way that the man hadn’t known, but he hadn’t said anything about it. Part of kids growing up, teenagers stealing from their parents’ liquor cabinets. Steve had hated the taste of it back then, and really didn’t much care for it now either. James had never seemed bothered by it, though. He would take a swig from the bottle and he wouldn’t cough or cringe the way that Steve always seemed to. It went down like water for him. And, while the years that passed made it so Steve didn’t cough with every sip anymore, he still always felt himself wincing at least a little bit each time. All those years had passed and he still wasn’t who James had been.

“Is it strange?” Sam asked.

For a moment Steve irrationally thought that Sam was asking the question in relation to all of the thoughts that had just been flying through Steve’s head. But then the logical part of his brain took over once more. Steve shook his head as he handed the bottle back to Sam. “Not that strange. I’ve watched him do this for years—it’s not new.”

“You guys ever run into problems out here?”

Steve shrugged. “Not on this run, usually. I remember my dad had come home once or twice with stories of fights and pirates. I never knew how much of it was just him trying to scare me into listening to him and my mother.” The comment got a chuckle out of Sam and Steve found himself smiling too. “But I know it’s been getting more dangerous out here.” A strong gust of wind blew and rocked the ship, causing both men to brace themselves to keep from toppling over. “Haven’t heard about anything but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. If trouble comes,” Steve’s hand subconsciously strayed to the gun at his hip, “we’ll be ready.”

He hoped he would be, at least. He wasn’t worried about the rest of the crew. They were seasoned sailors, most of them doing this since Steve was a baby if not longer, though they were younger men back then. But still, they’d run across thieves and pirates in their time and lived to tell the tale. Steve had never had the misfortune, however, to be on-board a ship with his father when there were unwelcome guests. He’d never had to use his gun on someone, or his sword. All he’d ever used them for was practice. He was hoping to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He turned to Sam. “You should get some sleep. Everything’s battened down out here just in case. We’ll be all set.”

“You gonna get some sleep, Cap?”

Steve chuckled at the moniker. “Yeah, I’m gonna get some sleep.”

He had no real clue how long he had actually been asleep for, but when he was yanked back into consciousness, it felt like he’d just barely shut his eyes. He wasn’t woken by a sound, but rather a feeling. The sensation of cold, sharp steel pressed against his throat. His eyes popped open instantly, and luckily enough his body fought the impulse to shoot upright at the disturbance. If he’d moved much more, he would’ve had yet another pressing issue to deal with on top of everything else that was happening.

He blinked the last of the blurriness out of his eyes. When the room came into focus, a fresh jolt of fear shot down his spine. His eyes traveled up the blade that was pressed against his throat, crawling their way up the arm of the person holding it until they reached the other’s face.

With only one candle in his room still left burning, Steve couldn’t make out the details of the man who was currently one flick of his wrist away from ending his entire life. He had long, dark, shaggy hair. It was covering just as much of his face as the shadows in the room were. With the hand that wasn’t keeping the short blade pressed firmly against Steve’s throat, he brought one finger up and pressed it to his own lips.

“Let’s stay quiet,” the man spoke, his whisper deep and raspy. “Would hate to bring the rest of your crew into this.”

The more that Steve’s eyes adjusted to the dark, the more details he could start to pick out about the person who had allowed himself onto their ship. He saw the myriad of jewelry draped around the man’s neck, around the wrist nearest his throat. The loose shirt left a fair amount of the man’s collarbone exposed, but that was hardly a blip on Steve’s radar when he noticed the way the sleeves of the man’s shirt were pushed up. His left arm, the one not holding the blade to him, was covered in scarring. It was too dark still for Steve to be able to try and guess what the cause of it might’ve been, but he had to assume that it wasn’t unrelated to the fact that this man was sneaking aboard ships in the middle of the night like this.

“I have a feeling,” Steve finally said, gathering his wits about him, “that you already did.”

Even in the dark the man’s smile was impossible to miss. “I’d say no one can get past you but,” he nodded towards the blade currently pressed against Steve’s throat, “apparently they can.”

Steve exhaled harshly through his nose, his patience wearing thin despite not knowing what he wanted his next move to be. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you’ve got.” The man looked around the tiny cabin space that they were currently in. “Merchant ship this size?” He nodded approvingly. “I think you might have a few things my crew could make use of.”

Steve shook his head as much as he was able, feeling the slight pull of the blade against his throat as he did so. “We don’t have—”

“Don’t lie to me,” the man’s whisper was as sharp as the steel in his hand.

He exhaled again, this time the breath came out unsteady. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the man in front of him, but he needed to look and see just how far away his gun was, or even his own blade. Was it close enough to reach for? Would he be able to move quickly enough to grab it before it was too late? If he did get it and manage to stay in one piece in the process, would he be able to take out the man in front of him before he could alert the rest of his own crew? He didn’t hear them moving around the ship but if they weren’t aboard yet, it wouldn’t be long until they were. The longer that Steve kept this man trapped in the room with him, the more likely it was that his men would become restless and come looking for him.

Steve held the man’s gaze for a moment longer before settling on a plan of action. Anything was better than sitting there and doing nothing. Not letting his eye contact waver, Steve swiftly drove his foot into the man’s sternum and pushed him backwards. It didn’t knock him completely down, but it put enough distance between them for Steve to twist and grab his own blade from beside his bed. He felt the burn on his throat where the other man’s blade had broken the skin, but he knew from the feeling of it that it wasn’t enough of an injury to cause a problem right now. There were much more important things at hand anyway.

He leapt out of bed, sword at the ready. In the limited space at their disposal in Steve’s quarters, they paced a circle around each other, sizing each other up. They were quite the pair against each other, Steve in his thin white sleepwear while the man was standing there fully dressed and ready for whatever was coming his way. There was something about the man that felt familiar to Steve, but he couldn’t for the life of him fathom what it was. He didn’t make a point of consorting with pirates, so he didn’t know what the draw was. He could barely make out the features of the man’s face, but there was something. Maybe it was just the panic in his system, looking to make sense out of something that was random and senseless. Wrong place, wrong time. If he lived to tell the tale, he was never going to hear the end of it from his father.

Time for calculation was over. Steve stepped, lunging with his sword. It was a blade that was longer than that of the other man’s, and he was hoping that would prove to be an advantage. The move wasn’t effective, the man blocking it with ease. The edges of the blades glided along each other as they each tried to push through and get closer.

Steve regained control of his blade and created an opportunity for himself to make another attempt. The sweeping gesture he made was mildly more effective than his first move—he felt the difference in pull as the sword cut along the skin of the man’s chest. He hissed in pain, turning away from the blade as best he could. It was surface-level damage, not all that much worse than the nick on Steve’s neck all things being considered. The thin slash was enough to cause blood to start seeping into the loose white fabric of the man’s shirt, making it start to stick to his chest.

Steve did his best to take advantage of the split-second of surprise, that brief moment the man spent recognizing that Steve had made contact. He stepped in and made another short, sharp motion and knocked the sword from the man’s hand. It clattered to the floor, sounding impossibly loud. Steve knew that this was the moment. If he was going to put a stop to this man, this was the time to do it. It would only take him another second, after all, to lunge and sweep his blade back up off the floor. Steve knew that he should send his sword right through the man’s chest, or slash the blade harshly across his throat. It was no better or worse than what they would do to him on-shore—pirates weren’t ever punished with anything less than a public hanging. It wasn’t as though Steve would be changing the outcome for this man. This was the only type of end he was going to meet. He must’ve known that when he decided to become a pirate. It wasn’t a lifestyle that was known for staving off a man’s expiration.

He brought his hand up to do exactly what he had practiced, what countless lessons over the years had trained him to do. One more sweep of his arm and it was all over. But he couldn’t. The blade stopped mere centimeters away from the man’s throat. Instead, he closed his first that wasn’t holding onto his sword, and struck a harsh blow to the man’s jaw, one that did knock him down to the ground.

It didn’t take much after that for Steve to get the man pinned down onto the floor. The man was lying on his stomach, one side of his face flattened against the wood floor beneath them. Steve was wrangling the man’s arms behind his back, ready to tie them into place when he heard a cacophony of footsteps and shouting out on the deck. Even with Steve’s knee digging into the man’s back, he still managed to get a laugh out.

Steve ignored the way that the man’s laugh made his nerves spike. He busied himself with the knot he’s started in the rope around the man’s wrists. The voices were clearer now, and Steve could also hear those of his crew as well. The mess was growing worse by the second and he still wasn’t sure what each step of the plan was going to be yet, he only knew the outcome that he wanted, no, needed.

He heard the man’s crew calling out for him, multiple men shouting out, “Captain!” What caught Steve’s attention, however, was the fact that at least one member of the man’s crew was calling out, “Bucky!”

Steve yanked as hard as he could as he finished the knot, noticing the sharp breath of pain the man let out beneath him. “Bucky, huh? That’s what they call you?”

He chuckled, like the position he was in hardly registered as an inconvenience. “Only my friends.” He turned his head to look at Steve. “That what we are now, Captain?”

Steve pressed his knee harder into the space between the man’s shoulder blades. “Hardly.”

Shifting his weight, Steve brought himself to a crouching position for a moment, feet planted just to the side of the man’s, Bucky apparently, body. Before Bucky could get so much as another snide comment out, Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s bicep as much as he could before heaving him up off the floor. Bucky was nearly stumbling to keep up with the force that he had been lifted with. Under different circumstances he would’ve been impressed, as he hadn’t expected the captain to have such an easy time of it. Bucky didn’t put up as much of a fight as he could have, and probably should have, as Steve grabbed hold of his sword again now that they were both upright.

It was impossible to miss, as Steve dragged Bucky towards the door, that the noise outside had reached its crescendo and died down considerably. No more firing guns and clanging swords. There were still the shouts and grumblings of disgruntled men, and all Steve could do was hope that most of the men still able to talk, still up and about, were his own.

He was just about to reach for the doorknob when someone on the other side yanked it open. The surprise that shot through Steve, that made him brandish his sword, quickly melted away into relief when he saw that Sam was the one who had pulled the door open. If Sam was coming to get him, he just had to hope that that meant his men had ended up with the upper hand. A success not unlike what Steve had managed against Bucky.

Sam’s eyes were wide with shock as he looked back and forth between Steve and the man that he had a vice grip on. “C-Captain,” he finally stammered out.

Steve could see, even in the low light, the blood smeared on Sam’s clothing. He hoped that most of it wasn’t his own. Sam was still upright, and aside from the panic and shock he seemed to be doing alright. “Wilson,” Steve said, trying his best to sound reassured, like he wasn’t just as panicked and just as out of breath as the man in front of him, “how’s the crew?”

Sam nodded but the worry was still thick in his expression. “We, they, um.” He couldn’t find it in himself to ignore the glare that Bucky was giving him. “Come and see.”

The confidence that Steve had been starting to garner began to slip away as he followed Sam’s instructions. He watched as Sam turned on his heel and headed back to the deck. Steve shifted his grip on Bucky’s arm, keeping a tight hold on the thick cord of muscle that ran up the back of his bicep, fingers digging as he pushed Bucky forward through the doorway first. The action was rough enough to nearly make the man stumble, but he managed to catch himself.

The deck was a mess, but as Steve took quick stock of the situation at hand, he was relieved to see that all the members of his crew were, more or less, in one piece. Some had injuries that would need more attending to in the daylight, and more still once they reached shore or returned home, but it didn’t seem as though anyone was at risk of slipping away from them just yet.

The same could not be said for all the members of Bucky’s crew. Some of them were bound much like their captain, left incapacitated against the mast. Others weren’t so lucky, their blood staining the wood more and more as each second ticked by. Bucky felt his anger renew, and he struggled against Steve’s grasp knowing it wasn’t going to get him anywhere, wasn’t going to change anything. It was a risk they all ran, living the life that they did, and Bucky knew that as well as any of them. Still, though, he felt responsible for them—he was still their captain after all.

Steve and Bucky’s crews had been matched well in terms of numbers. From the looks of it, Steve might’ve only had two or three men more. But Bucky’s crew was much greener than Steve’s. Most of that was chalked up to age. After all, while there were many benefits to youth, not many things could match experience. A majority of Steve’s crew were still young enough to be able to fight if they had too, but they were also old enough to know a lot of the tricks others had up their sleeves. It was why they were able to come out on top, even if they didn’t come out of it unscathed.

Steve felt Bucky pull against him again and he brought the sword up so that it was pressed against Bucky’s throat. Perhaps it was a bit of an empty threat after how things had played out the first time, but it still made a point.

“If you don’t want this blade to go any deeper,” Steve said as he adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword, “I would stop fighting.”

“Why?” Bucky grit out. “So you can bring us in and hand us off to someone else who will do the same? Hang us in—”

“You knew the risks when you decided to become pirates,” Steve cut him off, confidence back in his voice again.

He pushed Bucky towards where the rest of his crew was tied, impressed with how little pushback there was. He was tempted to make a comment about honor among thieves, but he knew as well as anyone the loyalty between a captain and his crew. There was a little gnawing at the back of his brain knowing that it carried over to pirates as well.

Sam stepped up so that he was beside Steve. “What do you want us to do?”

Steve nodded towards the mast. “Put him with the rest. We’ll keep them there for now.” He let out a deep sigh as he relaxed his arm, his sword lowering until the tip of it just barely touched the paneling of the deck. “We’ll move on now—reach port by the afternoon.”

One of the men tried to speak up, clearly exhausted from everything. “Cap—"

“I’ll take it from here,” Steve reassured, already knowing where the sentence was going. He was as exhausted as any of them, but he knew that there would be no going back to sleep for him now. He wouldn’t be able to rest until they returned back home. Maybe not even then. “One of you can relieve me in the morning.”

There was a tense silence, but no one spoke up to argue. The sense of unease about the plan was outweighed by people’s need to rest and lick their wounds. Steve watched as one of his men finished tying Bucky down. In the daylight he would be able to get a better look at him, at all of them. He wondered if he would feel any different afterwards.

Steve’s men slowly started to head back to their barracks, one by one. The deck slowly started to empty. The ship rocked slightly, and it wasn’t until that moment that Steve realized the storm he had been expecting never came. There had been some wind, a few smatterings of rain, but nothing like what it could’ve been. They could start carrying on right then with no issue, and now that was exactly what Steve was planning to do.

“Captain,” Sam spoke up, trying to sound certain but not quite hitting the correct note.

Steve hadn’t even noticed that Sam didn’t return to his quarters like the rest of the men on board had. Steve tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he turned to face Sam. Steve knew that he must’ve been just as rattled as he was, if not more-so. He wondered briefly how Sam had held up when the fight itself was happening. He had some wounds to show for it, so he had at least shown up, hadn’t stowed himself away. Steve had a feeling that Sam would be the type to stick by the crew, but that was one of those things that you never really knew about a man until they were thrown into the thick of it.

“Wilson,” Steve said in response, his tone more convincing than his counterpart’s. “You can head off too. If I need—”

“I’d rather stay,” Sam spit out before he lost the nerve. “If that’s alright. I don’t,” he shook his head, “I don’t think that I’m going to be going back to sleep anytime soon.”

Steve nodded understandingly. “Okay.”

The relief cascaded across Sam’s face. “Okay.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as much for his captain in front of him as for the men who were tied up to the mast behind him. They didn’t need to be seeing any weakness from him. “Besides,” some of his charm returned to his voice, even if it was a little more deflated than usual, “you’ll need a hand getting everything loosed to sail.”

The smile on Steve’s face actually felt like a genuine one, even through the exhaustion and the stress. “That’s true.” He nodded towards the ropes tied off on the side of the ship. “You know what to do, then.”

Sam gave a nod and headed right off, knowing the routine by heart, as close to matching Steve’s knowledge and comfort as he could. He moved with calculated ease, and after watching him for a minute, Steve headed off to handle the rest. Even with just the two of them working, they would be ready to go rather quickly.

Sam was climbing down the netting, calling out to Steve as he did. “Captain Rogers!” he exclaimed. “We’re ready!”

Steve nodded. “Pull anchor!”

Bucky had been watching both of the men intently from where he was strapped down on the deck. The longer he’d been sitting there, the more he had a strange feeling pulling at the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t just the feeling of being captured, the dread of what was going to come next. There was something else, something that he couldn’t quite put a name to.

It all came crashing down the second he heard Sam call the man in charge Captain Rogers. Bucky was sure that more words had been exchanged after the fact but he hadn’t heard them. Everything else fell away, the waves crashing around the ship, the groans and words of anger and discomfort coming from his men around him. The darkness seemed to get thicker as the reality of the situation started to rip through him.

All he could do was look at the man who had put him there. It’d been too dark, too chaotic to see it before. But now? With nothing else left for him to do but look? He could see it. As soon as the words had left Sam’s mouth, Bucky could see it. The years that had passed since they last saw each other had aged them both, Bucky more-so due to the hardships that he’d faced, things that Steve wouldn’t have had to worry about even in his wildest dreams. They were both grown now, and yet they were still just boys messing around on the deck of his father’s ship after dark. The stakes were higher now, but at the core of it, they were the same as they’d ever been. Bucky too far out over the ledge, Steve not quite out on the ledge with him.

Bucky thought that his heart was going to explode, splatter within the confines of his chest as each small thought and realization hit him one after the other after the other. His eyes were wide as he continued to stare at Steve, willing himself to say or do something, anything at all.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Bucky was finally able to force out one word. “Steve?” All the previous anger and snark in his voice was gone. He hadn’t spoken quite in a whisper, but it wasn’t loud enough to carry across the deck, especially not when the man in question was most likely trying to tune him out, along with all of his men. He cleared his throat, trying to say it with a little more force this time. “Steve?”

That time it reached the captain’s ears. Steve’s head snapped in Bucky’s direction, confusion etched so deep into his features that Bucky could see it despite the darkness around them. Steve’s eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where he got that information from. None of the men had called him by his first name in front of Bucky. Maybe they’d mentioned something in front of the rest of the crew, in the heat of everything else that was going on maybe that was simply a piece of information that had slipped out. Not the end of the world, really. But if that was the case, why was Bucky saying it like that? Why did he seem surprised? Maybe even a little sad? More than that, why did Steve feel like there was something intimately familiar about the way that Bucky said it?

The longer that they stared at each other from across the deck, the more Bucky could feel his emotions continuing to well in his chest. His limbs felt heavy, and suddenly his physical wounds were the least of his worries—they paled in comparison to the way that the years of hardship and being apart from everything he’d ever known, everyone he’d ever known, were crushing him from the inside out. He wanted to have more to say, but what was there? What was he supposed to say now that they had ended up like this? They hadn’t recognized each other, after all. He didn’t know if it made it more or less heartbreaking that it was mutual.

“Steve,” he repeated himself, this time not as a question.

Steve didn’t want to believe it. His grip tightened on the helm, blunted fingernails digging into the finish of the wood. The longer that he stared down at Bucky, however, the harder it was to try and lie to himself. He couldn’t try and ignore him and pretend all the way until they reached port. His resolve wouldn’t last that long, not if Bucky really was who he was about to claim to be.

He didn’t take his eyes off of the man as he called out to Sam. “Wilson!” In his peripheral he could see the way that Sam was listening, waiting. “Man the helm for me for a moment, will you?”

Sam nodded as he strode over, immediately ready to oblige. He placed his hands right where Steve’s had been, ready to keep the course. He had watched the entire scene unfold and while he couldn’t say that he had a full grip on the situation, he could feel the tension in the air that this was now about much more than a rag-tag group of pirates who had tried and failed to rob and possibly commandeer their ship. He wasn’t sure the depths of what it was about now, but it felt precarious. And precarious was dangerous when they were out in open water in the middle of the night the way that they were.

“Cap, I don’t know what happened with Bucky, but—”

“I’ve got it under control, Sam,” Steve said, his reassurance sounding surprisingly real despite the fact that Steve had no idea what was about to unfold. Maybe that was what it was like to be a captain, just making sure that everyone else felt reassured even if he didn’t feel very certain himself. He gave Sam’s shoulder an affectionate clap. “Stay the course.”

Sam got half a word out but before he could finish, Steve was already descending back towards the main deck, and Sam was left unable to do anything but watch him. There would just have to be time for the questions later.

Bucky had been watching the entire interaction unfold between them. He couldn’t hear for sure what they had been saying, but he could see the way that Steve had hardly taken his eyes off of him even though he had been speaking to Sam the entire time. Bucky hoped that boded well for him, that this wasn’t just some hopeless dream or delusion of his. He hoped that whatever there was between them way back when, that loyalty and whatever else existed unspoken there, had kept after all these years. Even if the stakes had changed drastically.

He watched as Steve made his way closer to him. The last mental image he had of Steve was when they’d been so young. Steve had been shorter, so much skinnier. He’d been strong enough when they were teenagers, but he’d always been slimmer and wirier than Bucky ever had been. It’d been a sore spot for a little while there. Clearly it wasn’t a problem anymore, if the way that Steve had been dragging him around with ease said anything.

Bucky felt like he blinked and suddenly Steve was standing in front of him. He tilted his head back, feeling the way it tapped against the mast when he’d tilted back as far as he could. He couldn’t remember a time before when he had to look up at Steve that way. All of the words he’d ever learned were stuck at the base of his throat as he watched Steve study him more closely, a deeper intent there now that recognition, and acceptance were nipping at his heels.

Steve had grabbed a lantern on his way, wanting to give himself as good of a view as possible of the man who was claiming, without saying it in so many words, to be the friend he’d lost at sea nearly two decades ago at that point. Time was so cruel the way it just kept slipping by.

Ignoring the attempted thrashing and angry commentary of the men who were left of Bucky’s crew, Steve finally lowered himself down so that he was face level with the man tied to the mast. He studied Bucky’s face closely in the lamplight now, the tan and smattering of freckles left behind after years out underneath the sun. He tried to see past the beard he had now, tried to see the boy he remembered, like if he couldn’t peel back the layers and find James somewhere underneath all of the Bucky, he simply just wasn’t going to believe it.

Bucky was helpless to do anything besides sit there and watch him. He saw the way that Steve’s pensive frown pulled his lips downward. Suddenly Bucky could see it clear as day. Even though the circumstances couldn’t be more different, when he looked at the thoughtful downturn of Steve’s lips, the slight pull of his brows towards each other, all he could see was the two of them sitting on the edge of the docks as teenagers, trying to figure out the intricate workings of all the knots that Steve’s father told them they needed to learn. It always took Steve a little longer to learn them, it was harder for him to pick them up and keep them committed to memory. He’d get three-fourths of the way there and then lose track, and he would make that same face that he was making now. Always trying to figure out which pieces of the puzzle he was missing.

Steve was fighting the urge to reach out and touch Bucky’s face. He hadn’t been brave enough to do it back then, and he certainly didn’t feel like he had any right to do so now. But it also felt like it wouldn’t be real until he did. Bucky’s eyes looked up at him, so earnest in comparison to how he’d looked at Steve when he’d first woken him up in his sleeping quarters. Two completely different men wrapped into one. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if either of those men still wanted anything to do with him.

The amount of time that they’d spent in silence, Steve crouched just inches from him, finally sank in. Steve cleared his throat, finally getting himself together enough to speak. “James?”

The relief that Steve felt at Bucky’s reaction was a visual, tangible thing. His shoulders went slack as he exhaled a breath he’d been holding for longer than he should’ve been. The creases across his forehead that had been born of worry instantly smoothed away. He felt himself wanting to smile but he knew that he couldn’t get too far ahead of himself now. They knew each other back then, and there was a brand of comfort in that, but they were different men now, or at least James was. He didn’t even go by the same name any longer. He didn’t know how much that history would hold, if it would be enough to save him.

Regardless of the conflicting feelings rushing through both of them, even though Bucky knew that it was too early on to have any assurance that he was actually safe, he still felt a thought, a feeling blooming at the back of his mind that was telling him that things were going to work out somehow.

He needed to come up with something more, something better to say, but with the shock that was still making its way through the marrow of his bones, all Bucky could do to answer Steve’s single-word question was repeat the same thing that he’d been saying all along. This time, he said it with a tinge of hopefulness that he hadn’t allowed himself to have in a long time. “Steve.”

Steve felt like he had just gotten punched in the chest. There was no more denying any of it. The reality of it all pushed the air clean out of his lungs. The urge to reach forward and pull Bucky into an embrace was immediately fought off by the part of his brain still steeped in reality, the part that recognized the fact that Steve had commanded to have Bucky restrained against the mast. There had to be a first step somewhere. Something between a constant repetition of names and cutting the ropes loose so that Steve could ball his fists in the fabric of Bucky’s shirt as he hugged him.

“How?” Steve finally managed to force out, the light of the lantern throwing shadows that further intensified an already heavy moment between them. “You were dead. I, I saw it…” he trailed off, emotions choking him up as he thought back to that night, to all of the nights since that it had been haunting him. “You went over the edge. Right,” Steve’s eyes darted to the railing where it’d happened, “right there. I tried to go after you but my father—”

“I know,” Bucky stopped him short. There were a million conflicting emotions on his face, behind his eyes, things that he had been shoving as far down inside his chest as possible for as long as he could remember.

That night might have been haunting Steve ever since it happened, but Bucky remembered it just as clearly—no matter how hard he tried to forget. He remembered the sting of the water, the burn of the impact of it. He remembered how with each breath he tried to take in, he also got a mouthful of seawater. But there hadn’t been any use in trying to spit it out, each sputter only allowing more water in. His body got tossed around by waves in a way that he couldn’t ever remember happening before or since. The ocean was cruel and unrelenting, and painfully egalitarian. It didn’t matter that Bucky hadn’t even truly been a man yet—the waves tossed him around like one anyway.

For as chaotic and overloading as it had all been, one other thing about that night was something that Bucky couldn’t forget about no matter how much he tried. All the sensations that popped up uninvited in his nightmares, things that yanked him from his sleep sweating and gasping for air that he no longer had to fight to get, and the one thing that made him awake with tears on his face was the sound. There had been wind, and rain, and waves, but above and through all of that he had heard the sounds of Steve’s screams. The screams, the cries. It was too dark and he was too incapacitated to see Steve trying to jump in after him, but even so he could hear the way that Steve had been screaming at his father, begging in a way that Bucky hadn’t ever heard before. At the time he thought that it was going to be the last thing he ever heard.

All the years that had gone by had Bucky certain that it was the last thing that he was ever going to hear from Steve. There had been points as time went on when he thought about heading off to find him. But when he was young he didn’t have the means. He was pulled in by a crew and he didn’t have the sway to be able to ask them to do such a thing. Why would anyone do something like that? Pirates had enough to contend with without putting themselves in situations like that. And the crew that had taken Bucky in, while they’d kept him alive and shown him the ropes, they were rough. They were brutal in ways that Bucky hadn’t known were possible outside the stories that he heard from sailors back home. He learned it all, too—how to keep himself safe no matter the cost. He tried his hardest to make sure it never came to that. But the more time that went by, the more that he learned, the more senseless it became to think about returning back home. He didn’t even know if he would be wanted there, if anyone would still remember him.

With each venture and every crime, Bucky had also become keenly aware of the fact that he was drifting farther and farther away from being James, from being the person that Steve would remember, the person that Steve would want. He didn’t know how long it took for him to stop letting that be a deterrent. At some point, the thought of seeing Steve again and still wanting to be something like the person his best friend would remember, stopped lingering at the forefront of his mind. He let go of the hope of that, let go of the last few shreds of that boyhood, the innocence that he associated with Steve for so long.

Bucky was pulled from the painful montage in his head by the grumbling of the man who was tied to the mast to the left of him. He didn’t quite catch the words themselves but he didn’t have to, the man’s frustrated tone and the way he was fighting against the binds was an abrupt reminder that Bucky had well and truly made his bed years ago. Now he had to lay in it, him and all of the men that made up his crew. After what had just happened it wasn’t going to be so simple as, “Cut us loose and we’ll just pretend this didn’t happen.” Bucky was the only one who would’ve possibly been capable of that, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing. They’d lost men to this, after all.

He studied Steve’s face for a moment, trying to figure out what the man was planning on doing next. There had been a time when he would’ve been able to tell without having to look—they knew each other that well. Bucky always knew the next three steps that Steve was going to take. It’d been too long now, though.

After another moment, Steve revealed a small knife. He leaned forward, about to make his way to cut the ropes that bound Bucky’s wrists. The child that still ran around the deepest parts of his brain couldn’t simply just let his friend sit there tied to the mast, no matter how long it’d been. It was impulsive, something that if his father, or Sam, or anyone had been there beside him, they would’ve stopped him.

As it stood, the person who tried to get him to stop was the man that he was trying to free. “Steve,” he said, voice quiet and sharp all at once, “don’t.”

He looked like a hurt puppy at the rejection. “But—”

“I stay with my crew,” he said, the sureness of his tone betrayed by the conflict in his eyes.

“James…” Steve was nearly begging, such a swift turning of the tables.

Bucky managed a shrug. “Different world now, Stevie.” He paused, waiting for his long-lost friend to say something more. When he didn’t, Bucky continued, “All of us, or none of us.”

“I can’t just—”

“Then don’t,” Bucky cut him off again. He knew that that was going to be the answer. The same way that Steve knew Bucky wasn’t going to turn his back on his crew, Bucky knew just as well that Steve wasn’t going to just cut them all loose like that.

With a sigh of disappointment, Steve looked one more time at the knife in his hand before tucking it back into its sheath. His hand stayed wrapped around the handle of it for a few moments longer anyway, like he was giving Bucky one last chance to change his mind, but he didn’t. Stubborn as he’d ever been.

“Alright then,” Steve finally said. He braced his hands on his knees so that he could get himself upright again. He hesitated to walk away, staring down at Bucky who was helpless to do anything besides stare back up at him.

Bucky sat and watched as Steve turned and walked away. There were so many things that he wanted so say, but what good would it really do him? Or any of his men, for that matter? Each one of Steve’s receding footsteps rung right through his skull even though the sound of them was softening with the distance.

“Should’ve gotten out,” the man beside him said.

Bucky turned to him. “What?”

“Should’ve gotten out. No point in all of us—”

“Like I said,” Bucky fixed him with a stare, “all of us, or none of us.”

The man let out a deep grumble of a laugh. It wasn’t loud, per se, but Bucky could see that he felt it genuinely regardless. In that moment Bucky was trying to remember just how long the man had been part of his crew. He had at least a decade on Bucky, the oldest member of their crew. He remembered him coming aboard, joining Bucky after his last crew had gotten captured. He’d lost track of how long ago that was exactly. Time tended to blur together, the number of days losing their meaning.

When the man stopped laughing, he said, “You still have that goin’ for you, then.”

Confusion drew Bucky’s brows together. “What?”

“The sea hasn’t beaten the ideals out of you yet.” He shook his head before letting it rest back against the mast once more. “Most men would’ve taken the chance to get out.” He chuckled one more time for good measure. “You probably should have.”

Something about the man’s smile got one out of Bucky as well. If he made it another ten years he wondered if he would be just as amused when faced with these types of situations. “Too late now, huh?”

The man looked over at the helm where Steve was standing, eyes never staying on one target for long. He looked at Sam, who he was talking to, around the ship and the sea surrounding it, but his gaze also kept going back to Bucky. Not any of the men beside him. Bucky might have been willfully ignoring that but his shipmate most definitely wasn’t.

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

The knowing look that was on the man’s face got a hint of a smile out of Bucky. He didn’t say anything to confirm or dispute what the man had said to him, though. He just sat and tried to think of how he was supposed to get everyone who was left out of this mess in one piece.

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Sam: Look, I’m sorry for… whatever it is I did to you.

Bucky: You left me to drown.

Sam: Water under the bridge.

Bucky: That’s where you left me.

[buckybarnesevents]

Join us for an ALTERNATE JUNE-IVERSE!

This event is entirely about all of the ALTERNATE UNIVERSES you could dream of, and they are all centered around our favourite Murder Muffin!

This Connect 4 event is very similar to a Bingo Event, but instead of 25 squares/fills/prompts, you will receive a card with four squares/fills/prompts. They may be taken and interpreted in any way you wish or feel inspired by!

We start on the sign ups on the 24th of March – this is when you can fill out a sign-up form and we will start to ready your card. Cards will be sent out within 3 days of you signing up, and you may begin posting your fills as soon as you have your card! Be sure to tag us (@buckybarnesevents and use the tag #Connect4AU)!

Below the cut you will find the Rules, FAQs, and Badges that are specific to this event.

But without further ado, we are excited to begin this event, and we are excited to see what you all come up with! 💙

RULES:

Be sure to check out the blanket event rules found HERE.

Due to the nature of all media and works within this event, it is only for those that are 18 and older – upon signing up you acknowledge that you are not a minor.

Any kind of hate (kink bashing/shaming, harassment, toxic behaviour, etc.) will not be tolerated at any point. There will be no warnings given and if proven to have exhibited any disagreeable behaviours, you will be removed from the event.

Tag your works accordingly. We expect explicit works, and that will contain squicks, triggers, etc.  We believe in Kinktomato here. YKINMKATOK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK) but you are responsible for advising our readers what to expect. 

This event, as always, is open to any and all pairings that involve our favourite murder muffin! If you’re finding that inspiration isn’t coming to you with just Bucky, we will also allow up to two squares per card to feature a different Sebastian Stan persona (Sebastian himself, Steve Kemp, Max Burnett, etc.)

The AU’s are entirely up to your interpretation, so long as they are featured prominently in your creation.

Read our FAQs thoroughly for event conduct, swapping prompts, schedule and more!

FAQs:

What is a Connect Four event? 

Simple! It’s very similar to a Bingo Event, where you will receive a card with four categories.  

What happens if we finish our card? 

You can request additional cards! Please only request a new card once you have finished your current card. If you are not happy with the prompts on your card, please request a swap for that square/those squares. You can request one swap per card, up to four squares (yes, you can ask for a whole new card).

To request a swap, please email us (buckybarnesevents@gmail.com) with your username, card number and the prompt(s) you are purging. 

Can we use a fill for another event as well (ie. another bingo, etc)?

Absolutely! So long as the other event allows it, we have no rules against cross-posting.

How do I post to the AO3 collection? 

Under collections (when posting), type in Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse or Connect4AU

You can also add your work directly from the collection by going to https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Connect4AU and selecting “post to collection” on the top right. 

What fills are accepted?

Any creative media is accepted:

Fics — minimum 300 words Moodboards — minimum 6 images  Digital / traditional art (sketches, too)! Playlists — minimum 10 songs Etc. 

If there is a medium not listed that you want to create and you’re not sure about, shoot us an ask and we will add it to the list!

All work must be newly uploaded to count towards the fill (no entering a fic you published a few months ago, for example). They may count towards already existing AU’s that you write for (a new chapter for an ongoing fic), or they can be something brand new – it is entirely up to you.

ALL ENTRIES MUST BE YOUR OWN WORK. 

What pairings are allowed?

Any and all. Whether that be /Reader, /Steve, /Reader/Steve, /Natasha, /Clint, rare pairs, ot3s or more – so long as Bucky is still the main character.

Is there a limit to submissions?

Absolutely not. You are free to create as many works / pieces of media that you feel inspired for – whether that be 5 fics for a Mafia AU square, or 10. It does not matter.

Schedule:

24th of March – Signups open WHENEVER you receive your card, you can begin posting 30th of June – Submissions close

You can sign up to this event from the 24th right through until the end – keep in mind that we are aiming for cards to be in your inbox within 3 days of you signing the form – though we are only human, there may be delays. If you have concerns or if it takes longer than 5 days, please email us or tag @rookthorne / @buckyismybicycle on the discord server, and we will check the progress. 

Having trouble deciding what to do within a generalised AU prompt? 

Click here to see the list of possibilities. 

Need a prompt for a plot or just a bit of inspiration? 

Click here to be taken to a list of prompts and generators. 

BADGES:

Toe beans? Toe beans. = including Alpine in at least one creation. 

Connect 2 = 2 squares used in the one creation.

Connect 3 = 3 squares used in the one creation.

Connect 4 = 4 squares used in the one creation.

Best shot there is = completed one whole card.

Bullseye! = completed three whole cards.

You’re the Captain! = completed five whole cards.

Fluffier than a cloud = created at least one fluffy creation.

Hotter than a sauna = created at least one smutty creation.

Hurts worse than a heartbreak = created at least one angsty creation.

Darker than midnight = created at least one dark creation.

Stabbed deeper than the soul = created at least one whumpy creation.

[cable-knit-sweater]

CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Event - Interest check!!

We ( @sparkagrace and I) have been thinking for a while about how to celebrate the upcoming 10th anniversary of CA:TWS’s release, and thought we’d see if people would be up for participating in an event around this anniversary.

Please fill out our interest check form here:

Let us know your thoughts!! The event would be open to all types of creations (fanfic, fanart, moodboards, gifsets, fic rec lists, playlists etc.) and low-pressure.

[catws-anniversary]

Today is exactly 10 years since the LA premiere of CA:TWS! As good a day as any to release all of our prompts so you can plan for the anniversary event.

Kicking off on March 26th, we'll be celebrating a decade of CA:TWS with 8 daily prompts to choose from, ranging from thematic prompts and quotes, to more general prompts and character-specific ones. These can be interpreted in any manner you choose and do not need to be linked to the daily theme.

As a reminder: this is an open event (see rules and FAQs - content does need to relate to CA:TWS), and the use of our daily prompts is entirely optional. They’re there to inspire, not to put up restrictions.

You can always contact us if you have any questions. We're so excited to see your creations!

MARCH 26 THEME: ON YOUR LEFT

The Smithsonian

First Meetings

Endurance

Mission

PTSD

"I'll put it on the list"

Favorite quote

MARCH 27 THEME: STEVE ROGERS

Camp Lehigh

Elevator

Motorcycle

Steve's list

Guilt

"It kind of feels personal"

Favorite Steve quote

MARCH 28 THEME: SHIELD

The Triskelion

Compromised

Surprise Visit

Neighbor

Weapons

"It's called compartmentalization"

Favorite scene

MARCH 29 THEME: NATASHA ROMANOFF

Mall

Disguise

Redemption

Matchmaking

Trust Issues

"Did I step on your moment?"

Favorite Natasha quote

MARCH 30 THEME: TWS CAST

Press Conference

Character Bleed

Photoshoot

Social Media

Stunts

"I'll take this one"

Favorite cast member

MARCH 31 THEME: SAM WILSON

Department of Veteran's Affairs

Partners

Soundtrack/Music

Wings

Missing Scenes

"I never said 'pilot'."

Favorite Sam quote

APRIL 1 THEME: HYDRA

Lemurian Star

Project Insight

Politics

STRIKE

Post-Credit Scenes

"Order comes through pain"

Favorite fight

APRIL 2 THEME: BUCKY BARNES

Bank

Metal Arm

Memories

Ghost Story

Revenge

"But I knew him"

Favorite Bucky quote

APRIL 3 THEME: CAP QUARTET

Washington DC

Breakfast

Bedside Vigil

Uniform

Found Family

"When do we start?"

Favorite duo

APRIL 4 THEME: TO THE END OF THE LINE

Helicarrier

1940s

Devotion

Identity Porn

Reunion

"Schoolyard and battlefield"

Favorite Stucky scene

Happy creating!

[becca-e-barnes]

Thinking so much about clingy, mutually possessive, filthy sex and how much I just need that rn

The kind of sex where you and Bucky just can't feel close enough to each other. You physically can't get any closer than you are, his thick cock buried so deep inside you but you still need more of him. He has nothing left to give you and you're glad because if he was any longer, you wouldn't be able to take the rest.

You're panting against his neck, whining out your frustration each time he slides home into your warm, wet body. His own groans are low, rumbling from his throat and hanging in the humid air of the bedroom you share.

"You know I can't fucking resist you. I can't." Bucky moans, grasping one of your wrists, guiding it between your bodies, encouraging you to play with yourself while he fucks you.

"I can't say no to you. Fuck, I'm yours." You hardly hear what he's saying over the obscene, wet sounds of your body accommodating his.

Your fingertips rub against your slick clit and the sensation is almost too much. "You're mine." You whine against his neck, using your free hand to claw at his back, driving him impossibly closer to you.

There's something reassuring about the feeling of his skin on yours. It's hot and sweaty but it's so comforting being naked with him, enjoying the pleasure of each others' bodies. You don't feel vulnerable communicating your pleasure to him; you feel understood.

"I am." He groans, eyes fluttering shut, lost in the way your body clings to him. "All yours. And you're mine, aren't you? My good girl."

It's a relentless build up, each stroke taking you a little further than the last and at some point, the band just has to snap.

"I am." You whine, barely able to manage any more words than that.

"You feel like Heaven. You were made for me. This warm, tight little pussy fits me perfectly." His body still isn't close enough to you, not that there's any way you could physically feel more of him.

"You take me so well, you know that? You take every drop of cum and you still beg me for more. Fuckin' love it." Just the very mention of Bucky pumping his release into you makes your walls flutter, dreaming of the feeling of his thick load shooting into you.

"I can't last like this." You hear him mutter and you're almost glad because you're not far off either. "Can't last when I can see that pretty face." His eyes meet yours and he pulls you in for a kiss that stifles your moans for a few seconds.

"Bucky, please." You groan when he pulls back, rubbing yourself just a little too quickly now that you've gotten desperate.

"Go on sweetheart, let me feel you cum for me." It only takes a few more strokes for your high to take over, pleasure rippling through you in a way that leaves your legs shaking.

You almost miss the start of Bucky's release, given how distracted you are by your own but the unmistakable throbbing of him inside you tells you he's reached his own peak if his moans didn't give it away.