#bucky is pushing 90 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daydreamgoddess14 · 30 days ago

Text

Backseat Driver pt. 1

Summary: Bucky Barnes is reluctantly running for Congress with the financial and political backing of Pepper Potts. Everything is under control until she assigns him a driver. A very chatty, overly enthusiastic, playlist-addicted driver who seems determined to worm her way past his hundred-yard emotional perimeter. He hates the arrangement. Until he really doesn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,800 (might've gotten so carried away I actually broke Tumblr and couldn't post the whole fic in one post.... so I feel like that deserves some kind of award 🤭, part 2 will post tomorrow)

Warnings/Tags/Info: No use of y/n, l/n, reader is described as female. I have literally no idea whatsoever the process involved in running for Congress or being a Congressperson. Expect grumpy!Bucky, sunshine!Reader, fluff, Sam being the most glorious human ever, Pepper Potts continuing to be a badass.... Ummm... I can't think of anything else to warn you of? Enjoy! 🩷

“I don't need a driver.”

“You're not driving yourself anymore.”

“The hell I'm not, this might have been your stupid idea, but it doesn't make me your little pet.”

“James,” Pepper Potts said smoothly (that’s when he knew he’d pissed her off), “you'd know if you were my pet. Now shoo. The car is downstairs along with your driver. Do not keep them waiting.”

Conversation over, apparently. He waited, just a little longer. Just long enough for her to sigh and pointedly not look at him. Just long enough to let her know that he owed her nothing.

If anything, he was the one doing her a favour. And a big one, at that.

“Congressman Barnes -”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm gone.”

He didn't close the door behind him.

Another small act of defiance.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity. He stepped out into the heavily guarded parking level, the security guard nodded in his direction, and pointed to a sleek, top spec Range Rover with blacked out windows.

She leaned over the bonnet, scribbling into a notepad. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned abruptly.

“Congressman, hi -” she began, holding out her hand.

He didn’t take it. “You’re my driver?”

“I am,” she said cautiously, waiting for him to interrupt again. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t respond.

Vibranium clinked dully against the metal of the car door.

“Uhh, that’s my seat?” She said, her lips pinched to hide her smile.

He left the driver door wide open and moved to the rear door instead, sliding into the car without a word.

“Thanks!” She chirped, hopping up behind the wheel.

The seat automatically adjusted to her height. He watched the mirrors shift too, suiting her position.

She threw her notepad and phone onto the seat beside her. In the centre console, she’d wedged a water bottle and a half empty iced coffee.

“Can you even reach the pedals?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Good one, haven’t heard that before. Little ol’ me, great big hunk of a car… course I can reach. I have this poking stick, see - helps me push the pedals ‘cos my tiny legs just can’t do it -” she laughed.

“Right, I get it. You can reach.”

“Sure you’re done? Would you like to see my licence? Proof that I can drive stick? How about you jump out and make sure I can see over the steering wheel?”

He stared out of the window instead.

With a self-satisfied smirk, she watched him through the rear view mirror.

“Seatbelt on?” She asked.

“Are you always like this?”

“Yep. Now, any music requests?”

His frown deepened.

“Good, I don't want to hear them. Driver privileges. Hope you like 90s dance.” She waited until he'd caught her eye in the mirror, the horror crossing his face.

And then she winked.

The car roared to life. The V8 engine growled, low and powerful, but the smooth leather seats and plush interior barely shuddered. The tyres squeaked on the ramp and as the sounds of Faithless filled the vehicle, she pulled out into the steady stream of traffic.

The thumping beat reverberated through the speakers and the driver hummed along to the music, sneaking glances at the grumpy figure in the backseat.

Bucky's misery was obvious. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze fixed out the window, his jaw clenched.

The sound of the music was only broken by the occasional sound of him sighing deeply.

The humming grew louder until the track reached the chorus and the driver began singing along, full, off-key commitment.

Bucky couldn't help but grimace at her wildly out of tune efforts. She had to be doing this on purpose.

"Do you have to do that?" He asked shortly.

"Do what?" She called over the thumping bass.

"Can you turn it down?"

"Huh?"

"Turn. It. Down."

She reached for the volume dial. "What are you saying?"

"God, finally," he muttered. "Do you have to do that?" he asked.

"Do I have to do what?"

"Sing along? It's awful."

"Oh. Well... I just like to," she shrugged.

“But you can't sing. You're way off," he said bluntly, his tone flat.

She shrugged. “Isn't that part of the fun?”

“Says who?”

“Oh I love this one!” She said gleefully, ignoring his question and turning the volume dial up again, higher than previously. “Love life and laughter is all I believe…”

Ahead of them, the traffic slowed and Bucky watched with increasing alarm, his brows pinched together, as the driver bounced and shimmied in her seat to the beat of the music, her hands either waving enthusiastically or clutching her heart like the song had cracked her open.

“I feel your hands, your lips, the heat of your body

Whisper your love to me say that you love me

Please just love me down and never leave me,

I'm a dreamer-uh-uh-uhhhhh!”

“Kill me now,” he growled, yanking his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and raised the phone to his ear.

"Yo man, I was just about to call you,” came Sam’s voice, already full of smug amusement.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I heard you got yourself a new ride?" Bucky rolled his eyes at the barely contained laughter in Sam’s tone.

"News travels fast," he grumbled, watching her continue to bop in her seat. Sam chuckled on the other end of the line, clearly amused by the situation.

"How's that going for you?"

“How’d you think?” Bucky hissed, “How’d you find out anyway?”

"Let's just say, my sources are always reliable," Sam replied cryptically.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide a small smirk. “Pepper just told you, right?”

“Bingo.”

“That figures," he said.

"Yeah, some of us have gotta be the grown ups around here,” Sam laughed. "So… you having fun?"

"I don't need a driver."

"A little louder, I don't think she heard you." Sam deadpanned.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I don't need a driver," he repeated louder, making sure she heard this time.

“Pepper’s right, you’re a public figure now, man. You can’t just be tearing your motorcycle around like a feral cat.”

As Sam negotiated, the driver in question lifted her hand and flipped Bucky the middle finger.

Too busy flipping him off, she didn’t notice the traffic ahead slowing - and slammed the brakes hard.

Bucky lurched forward in the back seat, instinctively reaching out to brace himself, gripping the back of her seat.

"Oof, shit, sorry." She grimaced, easing to a more gentle stop behind the car in front.

He slumped back, indentations left in her headrest from the tight grip of his vibranium fingers.

He tried to play it cool, acting like he hadn't been caught off guard.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, his voice gruff.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes still on the road ahead. "These idiots don't know how to drive. I'm pretty sure they're texting."

"You sure it's not your reckless driving that's the issue here?" Bucky retorted.

He went back to his call before she could respond.

"I gotta go, I'm on my way to a meeting,” he told Sam, barely holding back a growl. “Y’know, if my damn driver can get me there in one piece. I should probably read the notes before I go in."

"Enjoy the drive buddy, see you later," Sam cackled as Bucky ended the call with a sharp tap.

He leaned back in his seat, glowering out the window as the city whizzed by outside.

"You don't have to look so miserable," the driver said, her voice cutting through their uncomfortable silence.

Bucky didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the city outside.

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.

“Honestly, it's not the end of the world, having someone drive you around. You get more work done, you get to listen to my excellent music -”

"We're not talking about this," he muttered, opening the files he'd put on the seat next to him. “I'm sorting this out with Potts, your assignment will be over by the end of the day.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

They lapsed into a kind of truce, the radio mercifully turned down and the driver still singing along at a more acceptable volume.

Her singing was the only nagging reminder that she was there. He tried to ignore her and focus on the files in front of him, but his concentration kept getting derailed by her off-key humming.

"Can you stop that?" he snapped suddenly, surprising even himself.

"Youuu got it," she said quietly, falling silent at last.

Her smile faltered for the first time, just long enough for Bucky to notice.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, but then, after a few moments an uneasy feeling settled over him.

The quiet was too stifling.

Without the white noise he found himself hyper-aware of her presence.

He could now hear the rhythm of her breathing, the squeak of the leather steering wheel beneath her grip. He could hear the steady drum of her heart, a few beats quicker than a resting rhythm.

His focus sharpened on the sound of her pulse.

He wondered what could be causing her heart rate to increase. Was she nervous? Excited?

He snuck a glance at her, taking in the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled, the quick exhale.

Before he could ask, she brought the car to a smooth stop outside a towering building.

"Here we go, first stop. I'll be here whenever you're ready to move on." She said softly.

Bucky collected his notes from the seat and shoved them into the leather messenger back that rested on his lap.

He exited the car without a word, taking a moment to take in the impressive building before him. Behind him, he heard her window glide down, the tinny motor sound imperceptible to most ears.

“Thank you,” she prompted him with a grin.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged without turning around. “Thanks.”

He didn’t turn back until he got to the revolving doors of the building, by which point he could see her huddled over her notepad once again.

As if feeling his stare, she turned to the doors and smiled brightly, waving in his direction.

He ignored her.

~~~~

His meeting dragged on for over two hours. Irritation and fatigue picked at his brain and made his eyes itch. He felt dehydrated, hungry, and by the time he finally stepped out into the sunlight, his stomach rumbled in time with the traffic.

Out front, the Range Rover sat proudly - exactly where he’d left it.

Or rather, where he’d been left.

He could see her, either talking on the phone or - more likely - singing along to the radio.

He wondered if she’d even moved for the last two hours.

Seeing him on the sidewalk, she jumped out of the car and opened the rear door for him. Further along the seat, the drinks holder had been pulled down and inside sat a large bottle of water and a tightly wrapped foil… something.

“What’s that?”

“Figured you’d be hungry. And thirsty.” She shrugged, closing the door behind him before he could respond. She slipped into her own seat and turned the ignition.

He could feel her snatching glances at him in the rearview mirror while he carefully peeled back the foil on what turned out to be a still warm burrito.

“What?” He asked warily through a mouthful of food.

“Don't talk with your mouth full. It's not becoming of a Congressman.” She teased.

“Not a Congressman yet, doll.” He sneered.

She pulled out into the stream of traffic into a gap he'd only have taken on his motorcycle. The car behind flashed its lights in annoyance but she just flicked her hazards on and off in thanks. Over the sound of her music, the GPS announced a delay ahead.

“We're gonna be late,” he complained.

“Have a little faith, please.” She grinned and took the next left, ignoring the directions on her phone. Twenty minutes later, her passenger fed and watered, and the traffic defeated, she pulled up at their next stop.

Early.

“Shall I say I told you so now, or save it for later in case any more rack up?”

“How about you don't say anything?”

“Not going to happen. Enjoy your meeting, I'll be right here.”

He hesitated before getting out of the car. “You know, you didn’t have to…” he started quietly.

“I wanted to.”

And that was it.

Every day when he stepped out of his house, the car was parked up and waiting for him. And every day, the music was too loud, she talked too fast, too much and drove the Range Rover like she'd stolen it.

Every day he threatened to fire her. And every day Pepper Potts told him to get his head out of his ass.

A week into his enforced new staff member’s tenure, he text her.

Corner of Grattan and Bogart. Don’t be late.

Sam was in Washington heading north and had suggested meeting him part way. He picked up two coffees and waited for her, his baseball cap pulled low.

He wasn’t scrolling his phone.

He wasn’t really doing anything.

Just sitting.

Waiting.

When he heard the low purr of the Range Rover pulling up, he stood. One coffee in each hand. She rolled down the window.

“You know it's Saturday?”

“What, no dramatic music this time?” he asked.

“It's soul Saturday, I thought I'd wait for you.” she grinned. “You want in or are you just here to judge my taste again?”

He climbed in and handed her the drink without saying anything.

She looked at it. Then at him.

“…You got my order right,” she said, half-suspicious. “How?”

“You’ve ordered it three times already this week,” he shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I have ears.”

She looked down at the cup. Her name was scribbled across the side. In his handwriting.

She smiled softly.

Bucky stared straight ahead, pretending to study the road. She pulled away from the curb without saying another word, but the silence between them this time wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was familiar.

“So, where to?”

“Jersey, gonna collect my bike from the shop and meet Sam.”

“So this is a one way trip? And you couldn't just… jump on the train?”

“Potts said no.”

“Oh, and you always do as you're told,” she scoffed.

“Occasionally, when it suits.”

She yawned into her coffee and fell silent again. “I mean, I probably wouldn't cross Pepper either.” She admitted after a while, before treating him to her singing once more.

~~~~

Days later, with the sun dipped low enough to cast a golden wash across the buildings, traffic was thick, and for once she wasn’t weaving like a maniac.

The music was low, piano versions of recognisable songs. Bucky had his eyes closed, head tilted slightly back against the seat. He wasn’t asleep.

He never really let himself sleep while he was on the move.

“Rough day?” She asked softly.

He didn't answer right away.

“It’s always a rough day.”

“You still showed up. That counts for something.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at her in the mirror.

“I’m bored,” she said suddenly.

He arched an eyebrow.

“Then maybe pay attention to the road,” he muttered.

“I am paying attention. I’m also multitasking.”

He exhaled through his nose. A smirk, barely there.

“You want to pick the next song?” she asked casually.

He frowned. “What?”

“Music. You know? You can be DJ.”

“I don’t… I don’t really know what I like.”

She blinked. “You don’t like music?”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked out the window again. “I just haven’t had a lot of… say. In what I hear.”

There was something in his voice, flat, but not dismissive. It suggested years of noise he hadn’t chosen.

Propaganda. Orders. Guns. Screams. Silence.

She swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Well,” she said after a second. “Let’s fix that.”

She handed him her phone, unlocked and open to her music app. “Pick anything. Go on.”

He held it like it might bite him.

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said dryly. “This feels like a trap.”

She laughed, not mocking, just easy and warm. “Worst case scenario, you pick something awful and I throw us into oncoming traffic.”

“Fair. What classes as awful?”

“Let's find out, shall we?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

He scrolled hesitantly, his thumb moving slowly, like he was trying not to break anything.

Finally, he tapped something.

A slow, smoky jazz guitar slid through the speakers. She looked at him in surprise. “You just… picked that out of nowhere?”

“I didn’t just pick it.” He didn’t look at her. “I have been trying to adjust for the last few years. Sam's thrown a few suggestions my way.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while.

“…Not bad,” she murmured eventually.

His mouth quirked, just barely. “Yeah.”

She stopped the car outside his house.

“Get some rest, Congressman. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, so I look like shit?”

She laughed sharply. “Yeah, right. As if. Look, it may not feel like it, but you’re making a difference.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He nodded tiredly and stepped out of the car.

At the top of the steps, he turned, noting that she always waited for him to go inside before she left.

It didn't stop him from checking that she was still there.

~~~~

The events, meetings, townhalls, meet and greets were beginning to blur.

He stepped out of the building, tie loosened, shoulders tight. The black Range Rover was already parked across the street, perfectly aligned in a no-standing zone, hazard lights blinking innocently.

She leaned casually against the side of the car, sunglasses perched on her head, sipping an iced coffee with more espresso shots than he dared think about.

“You’re early,” he grunted as he slid into the backseat.

“I’m always early,” she said brightly, climbing into the driver’s seat. “What, you just think I appear like magic?”

He didn’t respond, but she caught the faint twitch of his mouth in the mirror.

Close enough to a smile.

As she pulled into traffic, he noticed they weren’t heading in the usual direction. “You missed the turn.”

“Not going home yet. I’ve got one more stop and then I have instructions to take you to Pepper.”

His jaw tightened. “You have another pickup?”

“Yup.”

“Oh,” he said, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Didn’t realise you chauffeured other people.”

“Although you're technically my only client, and the most dramatic, I'm doing her a favour,” she said, clearly amused.

He didn’t answer.

Just sat there, seething quietly at the idea of her smiling and chatting with someone else the way she did with him.

Someone younger. Cooler.

Probably not traumatised and 100 years out of place.

The Range Rover coasted to a stop in front of a sleek private school entrance. She unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted to glance at him.

“Back in five. Try not to melt in the leather.”

He grunted, but watched her go.

It wasn’t a man. Not even another client, not in the way he thought.

A moment later, she returned with a kid practically bouncing alongside her. The girl looked up at her with absolute adoration, and she responded with a warmth Bucky hadn’t seen before.

She walked the girl, Morgan, (it clicked a second later) back to the car and opened the rear door.

“You remember the Congressman,” she said by way of introduction.

Morgan clambered in without hesitation, sliding across the backseat until she plopped down beside him like they were old carpool buddies.

“Hi,” she said, pulling her seatbelt across. “You look less mad than last time I saw you.”

Bucky blinked. “Uhh… hi.”

She looked up at him, curious. “You still mad about her?”

He glanced toward the front, where the driver was watching them in the mirror with raised brows.

“...No,” he muttered. “She’s fine.”

“I know,” Morgan said matter-of-factly. “She makes the best lunchbox snacks. Sometimes she lets me drive in the driveway if Mom’s not home.”

“Don’t say that in front of people,” the driver said quickly, tossing her a warning glance.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Anyway, Mom said you were mad that she made you get a driver, and I said -”

The driver was hiding a smile now, fiddling with the GPS. “Alright, kiddo, seatbelt on?” She interrupted, “Get on with your homework, stop bothering Congressman Grumpypants.”

As they pulled away from the school, Bucky sat back. The heat of his earlier jealousy had died off, leaving him embarrassed.

He'd been jealous of a kid.

Not just any kid, Morgan Stark.

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled a tablet out of her backpack, popping in earbuds and disappearing into whatever assignments awaited her.

He didn’t know what the hell was happening between him and the woman in the front seat. But it was starting to get harder to pretend he didn’t care.

At the office, Pepper Potts was exactly where he expected her to be, half-glancing at a screen floating in midair, tapping on her phone, eyes flicking up to meet his with a sharp, calm kind of clarity that always unnerved him.

“You’re early,” she said, without looking at the time. “That’s rare.”

“I wasn’t driving,” Bucky replied dryly.

That got him the faintest smirk. She waved a hand and the screen blinked away.

“She’s good,” he said, casually. Too casually.

Pepper tilted her head. “Morgan?”

“…Your driver.”

“Ah.”

He scratched his jaw, suddenly feeling defensive for even bringing it up.

“I didn’t know you were hiring clowns,” he added, trying to sound annoyed, but the words lacked his usual bite. “She talks a lot. More than Sam, and that's… a lot.”

“She does,” Pepper agreed smoothly.

“Where’d you find her?”

“Hmm?”

“The driver.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” He tried to sound disinterested. Neutral.

He failed miserably.

Pepper gave him a slow, knowing look.

“You never ask about people, Bucky. Ever.”

“She’s… unusual,” he muttered.

“Unusual how?”

“Drives like she’s in a Fast and Furious movie. Listens to the worst music I’ve ever heard. Talks too much.”

“But you’re still in one piece.”

“Barely.”

Pepper smiled. “You could’ve just said you liked her.”

His eyes flicked up. Sharp. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He scowled. “This isn’t… I just wanted to know where you found her.”

“She interned with us a few years ago. Logistics. She's smart. Too mouthy for upper management though. Too good for it, in all honesty. She freelanced security logistics for a while, specialising in VIP movement, crisis response. Tony would’ve liked her.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait, she’s trained?”

“Extensively. Don’t let the coffee cups and dancing fool you.”

He blinked again.

It clicked. How she always had them out of tight traffic. How she knew exactly when to pull up, when to back off. How she always parked near exits without seeming to think about it.

He felt a little stupid, honestly.

Pepper watched him closely. “She knows what she’s doing. And before you ask, no, I didn’t pick her to annoy you. That's just an added bonus.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She grinned again.

He shifted his weight. “She ever drive for someone else?”

“Not like this. You’re the first.”

That meant more than it should’ve.

Pepper leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “Why don’t you just ask her these things yourself?”

He looked away. Jaw tight. “Not my business.”

She smiled gently. “You’re wrong, Bucky. It is your business. She’s in your life now, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t answer.

Pepper didn’t push.

“Go home,” she said finally, turning her attention back to her screen. “And don’t fire her. You’d regret it.”

He looked incredulous, then it dawned on him.

“She tells me you threaten to fire her every day.” Pepper arched an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t really going to -” he started, then stopped. “…Whatever.”

He left without saying goodnight.

~~~~

The event had gone better than he’d expected.

A few speeches. Awkward handshakes.

But people had listened. Some had nodded. A few had smiled. He could handle that.

It was easier when they wanted to be there to listen to him. He found it much harder convincing people who'd already made up their minds to dislike him.

What he couldn’t handle was the crowd waiting outside.

Photographers. Reporters. Bright flashes already popping the second the door opened.

His chest tightened immediately. He knew this feeling, It started in his hands - both of them.

Tight, twitchy, like even the coils and springs in his metal arm were tightening.

Then his jaw, clenching so hard his teeth ached. He froze in the doorway, half in shadow, half in the spotlight.

Too many faces. Too many voices, all shouting his name.

Winter Soldier!

Congressman Barnes!

Are the rumors true? Are you stepping down?

Smile for us, sweetheart!

That was a new one - they didn't usually call him sweetheart. He realised why.

That last one wasn’t even aimed at him, it was aimed at her. Parting the boisterous group like the red sea. Appearing before him, still and quiet.

And somehow, that broke the spell.

Before the tension could boil over, before he could even think about turning around and bolting, she stepped forward. Like it was nothing.

She slid into the space beside him, hand lightly brushing his arm, not grabbing, not controlling. Just grounding.

“You ok?” she murmured, almost under her breath.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t flinch either.

“Sorry folks,” she called sweetly. “Congressman Barnes is late for a call with Captain America himself. No time for pictures.”

Someone tried to shout over her. She cut them off without raising her voice.

“And no further questions,” she glared.

He didn’t say a word until they were both back inside the car, the Range Rover felt like a little island of peace in the chaos.

She didn’t turn the music on. Didn’t start the car. Just looked at him.

“Better?”

He nodded stiffly, trying to force his pulse back under control.

“…Thanks,” he muttered eventually.

“Any time. I'm calling Pepper, you need real security. This is getting ridiculous.”

“It's fine, I'm fine.” He insisted.

“No.” she said forcefully through gritted teeth once they were on the road. She sounded angrier than he'd ever heard her. “No. You don’t have to be bulletproof all the time.”

He didn't say anything, but he felt the comment land, however off-the-cuff she made it sound.

“And you actually do need to call Sam back,” she sighed. “That wasn't a lie. Any objections if I get us a little sugar rush?”

She was in the drive-thru for doughnuts before he could reach for his phone.

~~~~

She was unusually quiet when she picked him up the following day.

No radio. No singing. No bouncing in the seat.

Just a distracted hum of energy, like her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He climbed into the back as usual and settled in.

She fumbled slightly with the steering wheel, then sat still for a moment too long before starting the engine.

She didn’t even check the rearview to throw a quip his way. Something was off.

She drove in silence for about ten blocks before he spoke.

“...You good?”

She blinked. Glanced at him in the mirror. “Me? Yeah. Why?”

“You haven’t said a single annoying thing today.”

That made her snort, but there wasn’t much force behind it. “Wow. That worried you?”

He shrugged, looking back down at the folder in his lap. “Not really. Just weird when things are quiet.”

She didn’t answer. They drove another block. Then he cleared his throat.

“I, uhh, got something,” he said awkwardly, reaching into his jacket. “For the… silence.”

He handed her a small, beat-up flash drive.

She frowned. “What’s this?”

“I made you a playlist.”

She blinked, stopped the car at the red light and fully turned to look at him. “You… what?”

“Songs you’ve played. Stuff I caught. Things you like. That dance crap. Some other stuff too.”

“…You made me a mix?”

He shifted, looking suddenly very interested in the pattern of stitching on the car door. “Don’t make it weird.”

She stared at the flash drive like it might spontaneously combust.

The car behind them honked, making her jump. She eased the car into gear and set back off, then carefully, slotted the drive into the dash and started skipping through the tracks.

The car filled with familiar sounds. Her favourites, blended with a few odd choices that had to be his.

Jazz. Old-school rock. One or two that made her laugh. The Supremes, show tunes, K-Pop…

“I can’t believe you did this,” she murmured.

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“It’s definitely a thing,” she whispered, half-dazed.

And for a few miles, she forgot to drive like a maniac. Forgot whatever had been bothering her.

He kept seeing her in the mirror, like she was waiting for him to say something disdainful.

But he didn't. He didn’t look smug. He looked quietly proud. Like it had been worth the effort, just to see her stunned into silence for once.

By the time they reached his next appointment, she was singing along again.

~~~~

The evening events were the worst. The events where spouses attended and made him look painfully single.

His driver had delivered him home, shoved a Prada suit bag into his hand and told him she'd wait outside.

“You could just wait in there,” he waved vaguely toward the front door.

“Ha! No, god no that's weird. I'll be here.” She shooed him into the house, “go on, hurry up, you have thirty minutes.”

Forty minutes later he was battling with his bow tie.

“Up and then under,” Sam said, his voice muffled by his hands covering his face. “No that bit goes round -”

“Round where?” Bucky turned to where he'd leaned the phone so Sam could see.

“Man, please go and get in that damn car. Your driver will tie it for you.”

“I need to learn…”

“You don't have time, you gotta get movin’. I'll send you a YouTube video later.”

“YouTube? C'mon, man -”

“Buck, so help me I will kill you if you don't get in that car. If Pepper gets on to me ‘cause you're late, I will throw you under that bus.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too buddy.”

The faint beep of the handset let him know that Sam had hung up. By the time he made it outside, she was pacing by the car.

“Jeez, thought you'd gotten lost! What took you so long? Pepper is blowing up my phone,” she wheeled on him, scowling, but stopped immediately on sight.

“You any good with a bow tie?”

She stepped closer and took it from him. Her hands fluttered nervously but she looped the tie around his neck and used it to drag him a little closer to her height.

“You ok?” He asked. “You were about ready to kill me but you stopped?”

“Fine, totally fine.” She tied the knot carefully and tucked the band under his collar. She stepped back after tying the knot, brushing her fingertips along the edge of his collar like she couldn’t quite stop herself.

He caught the way her hands hovered for a second too long, like she’d forgotten what they were supposed to do.

“There,” she said, voice a little quieter than before. “You’ll do.”

He didn’t move. Just watched her. Her eyes flicked to the side like she was desperate to be anywhere else.

“What?” she asked.

“I told you, you were scowling. Then I walked out, and you just… stopped. Like you forgot to be mad.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice was softer now. “You're being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping just a little closer.

Her breath hitched, just barely, but he heard it.

“Are you worried?” He asked. “About Pepper being mad?”

“No, of course not.”

“You don't have to be.”

“I'm not.” She looked up at him then, and there was something in her expression he couldn’t place. He squinted at her.

“Then what?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead, she turned on her heel and yanked open the car door.

“Bucky, just… just get in before Pepper has both our heads.”

The silence that filled the car was different this time. Not the usual, comfortable quiet they’d eased into over the last few weeks.

This was charged.

He didn’t say anything. He wasn't sure he trusted himself.

When she finally pulled up to the event, she shifted into park and twisted to look at him.

He leaned forward instinctively.

Her eyes dropped to his lips for a split second.

“You never call me Bucky,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, just above a whisper. “It just… slipped.”

“Yeah?”

She didn’t reply, she stayed frozen, eyes on his, like something might snap between them if either of them breathed too hard.

And then…

The rear door opened abruptly, and a polite young valet with the worst timing beamed in at him.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re ready for you inside.”

Bucky stared straight ahead, past the driver, jaw clenched. A breath passed before he looked back at her. She hadn't moved.

“Enjoy the party,” she said, neutralising her expression and making her voice light and even.

He stepped out of the car, bow tie neat, posture perfect. But his hands were still shaking.

He hated these kinds of parties on a good day. There were always too many people pretending not to be watching him.

But tonight was worse. He couldn’t stop replaying that moment in the car. The way she’d looked at him. The quiet inhale. The feel of her fingers at his collar.

He was halfway through a conversation with some city councilman when he realised he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Earth to Barnes.”

He turned to find Pepper raising a perfectly groomed brow, two champagne flutes in hand.

“You’re a million miles away,” she said, handing him one. “Did I miss a memo?”

He cleared his throat and took the drink. “Just... tired.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it.

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance. “Your driver peeled out of here like someone was chasing her… know anything about that?”

His grip on the flute tightened so hard he could hear the faintest crack. He downed the contents quickly and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter.

“I think there's a tiny crack in that glass,” he told them before turning back to Pepper. “She did?”

“She did,” Pepper said dryly. “I hope you're not upsetting her.”

He didn’t answer.

PART 2

174 notes · View notes

m4rv3l-girl · 6 months ago

Text

Bubbles and Kisses

Bucky x Y/N

After a long day, Bucky takes care of his best girl.

Requests Open! (I can’t put in words how valued requests are to me, please leave one if you can, remember they can be anonymous! 🫶)

Warnings: Just a whole bunch of fluff!

The world had taken its toll on her today.

Y/N felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down as she pushed open the door to her apartment. Her feet ached from being trapped in heels all day, and the steady hum of city life in her ears hadn’t stopped since dawn. Her only thought was to find him.

“Bucky?” she called out, a hopeful streak in her voice.

It took just a second for his voice to carry through the hall. “In here, Doll.”

Y/N followed the sound into the bedroom and paused, surprised by what she found. Bucky stood there, leaning casually against the doorway, his gaze warm and that lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Behind him, the bathroom glowed, soft candlelight casting a welcoming glow through the partially open door, and a steady wisp of steam rose from the crack, promising warmth and comfort.

Bucky crossed the room to her in a few slow strides, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Rough day, huh, Kitten?”

“Brutal,” she murmured, her shoulders slumping as his thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand. The world felt lighter already.

“Well, I’ve got just the thing for that.” He held her hand, guiding her closer to the bathroom.

When he pushed open the door, she saw what he’d set up: a tub filled with steaming water and bubbles piled high, a collection of soft towels folded neatly on the counter, and her favorite fluffy pajamas waiting by the sink. He’d even put out her favorite slippers. The air was filled with lavender and vanilla.

She blinked, emotions swelling, though she tried to keep it light with a smirk. “You planning on joining me, Serge?”

“Oh, that’s absolutely the plan,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips. “If that’s alright with you, Doll.”

Without another word, Bucky shrugged off his shirt, jeans and boxers, his easygoing grin warming her heart even more. As they slipped into the water, she nestled back against his chest, feeling the strength of his arms surrounding her. The heat of the bath soaked into her skin, easing the day’s tension with every passing second. She closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

Bucky’s lips brushed her temple, then her cheek, then lower, his breath warm against her ear. “Better?”

“So much better.” Her voice came out in a blissful whisper as her hand found his, twining her fingers with his under the water.

They stayed like that, surrounded by bubbles, the water lapping gently around them.

Eventually, Bucky started talking about his day, and she couldn’t help but laugh when he confessed he’d tried to cook a recipe he found online but had misread the measurements for the salt. He chuckled, squeezing her hand as he continued, “Let’s just say I’ve made pasta three times now, and I think my body’s 90% carbohydrates at this point.”

Y/N laughed, glancing over her shoulder. “I appreciate the dedication, Sergeant Barnes. You’re really going for ‘man of the kitchen’ now, huh?”

“Hey, I’m a work in progress.” He chuckled, pressing his cheek to hers, his stubble tickling her skin.

“Hey, I’m a work in progress.” He chuckled, pressing his cheek to hers, the faint scratch of his stubble tickling her skin.

She wriggled a little, laughing softly as she pushed him back just enough to turn and meet his gaze. “Yeah, well, tell that to my spice rack. I think it’s still recovering from last time you decided to ‘experiment.’”

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes before giving her a mock-wounded look. “You’re making me sound like some disaster in the kitchen.”

She raised her brows, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “You added two cups of pepper, Bucky. Pepper.”

He let out a reluctant laugh, the sound reverberating in his chest and making the water ripple around them. “Hey, I had a vision. You’re just not seeing my culinary genius, Sweetheart.”

She tilted her head, lips pursing in exaggerated thought. “You know, there are actual cooking classes, people you could call for guidance…”

“Or,” he interrupted, leaning forward until their noses brushed, his voice a playful murmur, “I could just keep experimenting until I win you over with my unique talents.”

She rolled her eyes, though her smile softened as she gently brushed a hand over his cheek, her thumb tracing the scar along his shoulder. “Winning me over doesn’t take much, you know.”

His gaze softened at her words, the humor fading into something warmer. “Yeah? ’Cause I’d go to the ends of the earth for it, Doll. Or, at the very least, attempt another recipe or two. Only if you’re lucky, though.”

She laughed, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Guess I am, then.”

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, both of them sinking back into the warmth of the bath, the bubbles swirling around them as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders once more. He brushed his lips across her forehead and rested his chin on top of her head, his voice a low murmur, “Just want you to feel like the luckiest woman in the world, you know?”

She glanced up, catching his gaze, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes. “With you, I always do.”

They drifted into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional bubble popping between them. She felt his arms tighten slightly, pulling her closer, as if grounding himself in the warmth of the moment. He sighed, low and content, and she could feel the smile against her neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, glancing up at him. “For this. I needed it.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Darling,” he murmured, voice soft. “Taking care of you…well, that’s my favorite part of the job.”

He gently brushed a thumb over her knuckles, his touch delicate as if he were memorizing every detail. They slipped further into conversation, trading jokes about the ridiculousness of their day, the strange things they’d encountered, and the people they’d met.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” she said, perking up with a sly grin. “Sam texted me. Said you owe him ‘three push-ups and a latte,’ whatever that means.”

Bucky let out a deep laugh, his hand splashing lightly in the water. “That traitor. It’s because he bet I’d make it through the day without saying a single swear word.”

“And you lost?”

“Let’s just say someone accidentally spilled hot coffee on my favorite jacket this morning. Not my best moment.” His face softened, then, as he brushed a kiss over her shoulder. “But this makes up for it. Everything is better when you’re here.”

The sincerity in his voice melted her heart. She tilted her head, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. They lingered there, a tangle of warmth and affection, their noses brushing as she drew back, her hand cradling his face.

They stayed in the tub until the water started to cool, and even then, neither of them wanted to leave the cocoon of warmth and each other’s company. Eventually, Bucky stood first, grabbing a towel and holding it open for her with a sweet, playful grin.

Once they were out, he handed her the fluffy pajamas he’d set aside and ruffled his hair with a towel, watching her as she slipped into them. “You’re adorable,” he said, a touch of awe in his tone.

She glanced at him, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

When they finally snuggled up on the couch, tangled in each other and a blanket, she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Think you’ll be alright tomorrow?” he asked, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her arm.

“With you here? I’ll be better than alright.”

He let out a contented hum, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Then that’s all that matters, Kitten.”

——————————————————————————————————

So, are your teeth okay after all the cavity-inducing sweetness?? 🤭

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #marvel #bubble bath

181 notes · View notes

brotherwtf · 1 month ago

Note

ok but a 90s/2000s au and gale has a tramp stamp??? holy shit bucky would go insane i fear

TRAMP STAMP YES YES TRAMP STAMP Gale would most definitely have one and he would be so embarrassed by it but John is ABSOLUTELY obsessed

wait wait wait what if this was set in the 90s and 2000s and it's like a two part romance situation, Bucky and Gale met once at a frat party in college where John was all backwards hats and shirtless and buff and HOT and Gale was a beautiful diva with a slim waist and mini shorts and shirts and John asked Gale to dance and they danced all night, John's hand on Gales waist and his eyes locked on the curly little tattoo right above Gales shorts

they made out and were almost going to fuck when someone threw themselves off of a table and the ambulance had to be called, kind of a huge boner killer if you're being honest and while John had to go deal with that Gale left, and they never saw each other again

John graduated with a business degree and left the party life somewhat behind, got a degree at a good company and rose to project manager, forgetting all about that one night he spent with a man he'll never forget

until one day he's buying groceries and he walks past a man reaching above him for smth of the top shelf, his shirt and jacket riding up over his waist and John catches a glimpse of something that immediately sends him back to the smell of beer and sweat and the feeling of a hot body against his, he of course does a double take and while the man is still reaching above him he can confirm that that's the tramp stamp from that forsaken night and he starts to immediately freak out

he looks at the man and he instantly remembers everything, while a younger version of him was hot and sexy the man before him is handsome, charming, still holding some of the youth in his face but now furrowed a little more, and John remembers him, he remembers the man, so of course he awkwardly goes up to him and asks if he went to University of Wisconsin and when the man turns around there's that same flash of recognition, and he responds with a short nod and a little smile, introduces himself again as Gale Cleven and of course, John remembers giving Gale a hard time for his name and it's all coming back to him now

he invites Gale to get coffee and Gale agrees, they have polite conversation and of course Gale asks how John knew it was him and he turns beet red before carefully confessing that he recognized Gale's tattoo, and then it's GALE'S turn to be hella embarrassed as he swears he only got the thing as a joke and he kinda regrets it now that he's a fully fledged adult but of course John is like "it's hot as fuck" and that's what makes Gale pause a lil bit

what if they go on a couple more dates and the tension is so thick you could cleave it with a knife and then one night when they're at dinner, Gale asks "how about we finish where we left off 10 years ago," and that of course leads to them in a hot and sweaty bar with John pushing Gale's shirt up over his back to see that same tattoo from all of those years ago on that same perfect waist with the same perfect boy, and of course they go all the way this time and fuck in John's bed, romantic style but John still has his hands around Gales waist, just to remind him

some pics for reference (college and post college)

#mota #clegan #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #asks

77 notes · View notes

estelofimladris · 3 months ago

Text

About Hawkeye (and why I think the MCU failed him)

Hawkeye: Freefall (2019) #1 Variant Cover by Otto Schmidt

Hawkeye's entire story is about looking for belonging. Both of them, but in this case in particular, Clint. Every relationship he's ever been in, every team, and every major change in his life has revolved around an unyeilding desire to belong.

Even when he gets what he wants (West Coast Avengers, New Avengers, marrying Bobbi, etc) he still isn't staisfied and pushes against the social contracts, bouandaries of relationships, and actual obligations because he doesn't actually feel he's enough.

Ultimate Comics: Hawkeye (2011) #1 Cover by Kaare Andrews

Its why I've always hated The Ultimates take on him. Clint is not a joiner. It's 90% of his personality. He fought the Avengers before becoming one. He refused to actually join S.H.I.E.L.D. even though everyone kept telling him it would help. He complains about it constantly and questions even once he has become a part of a group (see: his entire personlity during the Kookie Quartet era).

Thus, when the early MCU was so heavily influenced by The Ultimates, we had to suffer through Clint as a soldier, an agent, and a family man. Not just because it was creepy and awkwardly done, but also because 98% of Clint's content is about him not being that guy so they had very little to draw on meaningfully. He seems empty and directionless from the beginning. A suit wearing what's supposed to be an interesting man, not a charming circus runaway.

A panel from West Coast Avengers Vol 1 #3. November 1984.

Clint's story is one of found family. It's why I find his interactions in Marvel: Rivals so charming. Whoever wrote that dialog gets it.

"Hey, Bucky, you wanna team up?"

"Hey, Jeff, I've been wondering where you are!"

"One of these days, I need to sit down with Rocket and exchange ideas."

A man who lives and breathes to be among other heroes.

I wish so desperately we had an ounce of this in the MCU.

#hawkeye #marvel #marvel comics #mcu #clint barton #marvel rivals #idk i just go here #my fandom ramblings belong somewhere #and i guess that's here today

73 notes · View notes

nessieart · 5 months ago

Text

The Way Back. V

WC: 7.5k (its super long im so sorry!)

eventual bucky x reader. maybe steve x reader. im still deciding dontshootme

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

An: I've had half of this done already, and wasn't sure where to put it. So here we are! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Previously:

"I bet you say that to all the girls, Bucky," you tease, placing a hand on his chest. You push him away slightly so you can order a drink for yourself, but Bucky steps back into your space, holding your hand to his chest.

He looks over your shoulder for a moment, then down at you as he lowers his face next to your ear.

"Maybe, but I'm here with the prettiest dame in Brooklyn tonight. And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Oh, he's good. You bring a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh that wants to bubble out.

"Alright, soldier, buy a gal a drink first," you chuckle. It earns you a bright smile, and Bucky turns to get the bartenders attention.

As you gaze around the bar, you see a familiar head of blonde hair, then realize he's leaving. You turn to Bucky, "why is Steve leaving?" Bucky stiffens next to you. He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

2011

New Mexico was oddly cold this time of year. You still haven't gotten used to it after moving back here for 3 years. After leaving California, packing up your whole life from your small apartment, you decided going home might do you some good. Helping out the family business wasn't what you had in mind, but you had no other options. It wasn't permanent, that's what you kept telling yourself. Your mom just needed a little help, that's all.

Dr. Jane Foster sat in your section of the tourist-fueled diner in the middle of Roswell. Small green alien decor with a retro ‘50s vibe was all the rage - at least it was in the ‘90s.

“Look, I get it, sure,” you shrugged, placing the plates of toast and waffles (in the shape of little green men) on the table, “it's all hilarious to poke fun at the failed Astrophysics major - in green antenna - but I left all those theories back west. Sorry, Doc.”

“I read your graduating thesis,” she bursts out, hands clamped tight around the coffee mug on the table. “Your theory on Parallel Existences and Space-Time Resonance was,” she huffed out a breath of disbelief, “was truly amazing! It was inspiring! I want you to come work with me, er us. With us. please?” The sentence was rushed, and she hardly took a moment to breathe, but you understood.

There was another huff across from her, the girl in glasses and a beanie rolling her eyes and putting more waffles in her mouth than she should.

“Lay off, Jane,” Darcy, you think her name is, says around a mouthful of waffles and syrup, “she obviously would rather work her minimum wage, shit job, where she has to dress like that,” she points her fork up and down at your outfit, “-than see the hunky space dude you hit with the van.”

Your eye twitches, and you place your hands on your hips. Dr Foster shoots her companion a glare and mutters something about it was an accident, and you're too focused on their banter to hear the bell above the door, and the man approaching the table of your current customers.

“Well, what's the verdict, my dear?” An accented voice pulls your thoughts away. And you're looking at one of your idols.

“D-Doctor Sel- Selvig,” it's a whisper, and you're staring wide-eyed at the man, mouth gaping like a fish as you fumble about what to say. It's all stuttered syllables, and you promise you're more verbally inclined than this very moment. You have a PhD for crying out loud. Well, almost a PhD, but who's keeping track?

Dr Selvig chuckles, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I'm assuming that's a ‘yes'?” Your frantic nodding is all you could muster.

Your brows are furrowed, arms crossed at your chest and head tilted to the side. Surely, this space hunk, that Darcy calls him (probably derogatory, not affectionate), can't be from, well, space. Could he?

You read Jane's readings she gathered from the other night as she drove back to her ‘lab’. She talked a mile a minute and hardly paid attention to the road as she pointed out certain scans and readings on the paper in your hands. Her hands articulated wildly, and your hand on the wheel of the van to keep it between the lines on the road.

The blond Adonis in a too tight shirt smirks down at you, mimicking your stance with a twinkle in his electric blue eyes.

You narrow your eyes at him, “you're from space.” It's not a question, and the man - a God he had said - nods once.

“From a planet called-”

“Realm,” he corrects.

“Uh huh,” your head tilts the other way. “Asgard.” He grins, big and bright, and then claps his hands together so loud it sounds like thunder.

“You were far easier to convince than the rest of your friends,” he claps a hand on your shoulder, and you're sure the force of it sends you into the floor beneath you. A quiet ow leaving your lips.

His voice is accented and deep, and dare you say…old timey? Like going to Medieval Times or something.

He puts on a show, voice loud and booming with purpose as he describes his home. There's a fond smile on his lips and a far-off look in his eyes.

You roll your shoulder to ease the sting, “With Dr Fosters findings on the Einstein-Rosen-”

“Bifrost,” Thor corrects you again.

“Uh huh, bifrost. With her data on the Bifrost, it would only conclude to lead somewhere else. Somewhere far away that we could never hope to discover in our lifetime. Multiple lifetimes.” You've paced away from Thor's grip and around the room. “Imagine if you could travel anywhere, any place conceivable to the known universe…it’s. It’s extraordinary.”

There was a repetitive loud banging on the glass door behind you. It made you squeak in surprise. Four large people stood on the other side, all wearing…well, odd clothing. Three men and a woman.

“My friends!” Thor’s thundering voice shouted.

—

It was still hard to believe, even though you watched them all disappear.

A beam of bright, radiant rainbow light appeared from the heavens, engulfed Thor and his friends, and then they were gone. A large glyph seared into the desert sands was the only thing left of their time on earth.

After that, things happened so fast. Working with Dr. Selvig, being recruited by SHIELD. Doing something you loved and missed.

And then the explosion happened.

Everything was fine one minute, and then the next, the readings were off the charts. SHIELD started evacuating all personnel on the upper floors. You insisted on staying with Selvig to try and tame the Tesseract, but it’s been hours, and you have nothing to show for progress.

Nick Fury is an intimidating man. You've only been in his vicinity a handful of times. You're pretty positive he only has one emotion; serious.

It all happened so fast. Fury was shouting, and so was Selvig. The only thing you could hear was the ringing in your ears, then a pain so searing hot and ice cold, shot through your chest it almost made you pass out. It felt like you were on fire. Every breath and subtle movement was painful. A groan leaves your lips, and it takes considerable effort to open your eyes.

You could hear voices call your name. Maybe it was your name. Who were you?

How did you end up on the floor? It was all a blur.

“Now then, who are you?” A lilting accented voice above you asked. When your eyes meet the striking bright blues of the stranger - or did you know him - he smirks at you.

“I- I don't-” was that your voice? It sounds so far away.

There’s a lot of loud noises across the open room - guns, yeah, probably guns - the ringing is slowly subsiding as you sit up. The burning sensation is all but gone now. There's a man knelt down beside you, a hand gripping your bicep and tugging you up to your feet.

“C’mon, kid, we gotta go,” he says in your ear. It feels like eternity as you drag your eyes from your hands to his face.

“You - you have an eyepatch. Are you a pirate?”

The man shakes you a little, “Snap out of it, Agent. Get that brain goin’,” he - Fury! How could you forget - pulls you along with him, a briefcase in his other hand.

“Please don’t,” the quiet voice seems to carry far in the wide open space. “I still need that.”

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury says, slightly turning back to the mystery man clad in green.

Fury slowly steps in front of you, shielding your body with his. You’re vaguely aware of more conversation being had in the room, but the ringing is slowly taking over again the longer you stare at the scepter in the stranger's white knuckled grip.

There’s a loud shot that rings out, and Fury is at your feet with a bullet hole in his shoulder. You yelp in surprise and kneel down next to him. There’s a rush of footsteps toward you, and when a pair of hands try to pull you along, they phase right through you.

You stare up at the stranger, both of your eyes wide in surprise. His eyes were eerily blue.

“What in the Nine Realms are you?” There’s wonder in his voice, and then he doubles over in pain, a bodyguard, and Agent Barton pull him along in a hurry, along with the large silver briefcase.

There’s a groan below you, and Nick Fury is sitting up, yanking the bullet from his vest.

Everything goes blurry and dark around the edges of your vision as Fury all but drags you out of the building and into a helicopter.

—

It was hard to remember how you got here, in a bed, in an off-white room with monitors and an IV connected to your hand.

Your mind is still trying to catch up. The events of the last day and a half are still fuzzy and catching up with your sluggish brain. The hiss of the door opening pulls your eyes up from your lap, Agent Coulson stands in the doorway.

“How - ?”

He raises a hand as he steps closer, “you've been out for most of the day. I was starting to worry. We brought you on the helicarrier,” someone is there to remove your IV, and Coulson helps you out into the hallway.

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, waiting for you to get your bearings.

“I remember-,” your eyebrows scrunch up, and you shake your head, “I remember the Tesseract acting up. Dr Selvig was trying to stabilize her, but she wouldn't respond.”

Coulson led you down the hall and onto the bridge. Director Fury and Agent Hill were conversing when they noticed you entered.

“The energy release opened a portal,” your hand comes up to your chest (whether you realize it or not). There's a slight burning sensation when you do. “It went right through me. Didn't it?”

You peer around the room, Coulson and Hill look worried, and Fury is as serious as ever. His large footfalls echo in the open space. You feel like Fury is stalking towards his prey, and you're it.

“That beam went right through you, Agent,” he stops a few inches from you, single eye peering down his nose at you. “Saw it myself. Are there any side effects I need to know about?” You shake your head.

Fury tugs on the black tank top resting on your collarbone. When you look down, there's a very noticeable bright blue glow coming from your chest.

Pulling it down just far enough to not flash the whole room, there's a palm sized blue crystal seared to the flesh of your chest. 6 inches long, below your clavicle and ending between your breasts.

The skin around it is scared and puckered with healed over burn marks. You touch it, and it's solid, glowing brighter when your finger runs along the edge.

“What the hell?” You look up at Fury with wide eyes, tears gathering and blurring the edge of your vision. “Can it come off? How did it - what - ? Take it off-”

Your mind is running a mile a minute, heart rate also kicking up. You're pretty sure your breathing is ragged and sporadic.

Oh, so it's definitely a panic attack.

You're gasping for breath when a comforting hand runs up your back, Coulson is talking softly in your ear to bring you back down.

Am I on the floor?

“Yes, it's ok. Breathe, follow along. Do what I do,” a soft voice says to you. Your hand is placed on their chest, and you can feel the beat of their heart and the rise and fall of a chest. The purple cotton shirt is soft under your fingertips.

In, out. Breathe. In, and out.

“You're doing great,” the man says. You look up to his face. He's quietly calm. The uptick of a smile pulls at his lips when you mimic his breathing again.

“Great,” you exhale a long breath. “I just had a panic attack in front of Dr Banner. Good going, y/n. Smooth.”

Banner chuckles, squeezing your hand he still holds to his chest, “don't worry about it,” his smile is polite, and he helps you stand.

Behind you, Fury calls your name, “Agent, why don’t you help Dr. Banner with locating the Tesseract? I’m sure your…abilities could prove useful.”

“Um, sure.”

Bruce (he’s asked you on multiple occasions in the last half hour to call him Bruce) removes his glasses from his face. There’s a slight flush on his face after he examines the crystalline scar on your chest. It sits flush against your skin, but hard has a rock when touched.

You sat on top of the table, and the black sports bra didn't cover any of the crystalline on your sternum. It was easier for Bruce to examine it this way.

“So, what's the verdict?” You put the tank top back on. At least it covered a majority of the blue glowing rock.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did. “I'd need to x-ray the area, just to be 100% sure, but I think it might be fused with you. Your sternum, maybe a few ribs.”

“So in other words, it's a part of me,” you slid off the table and stood, “whatever this is, it's not going anywhere.”

Bruce gives you a sullen look, shaking his head a little. There was a commotion outside the lab, a bunch of armed SHIELD agents filling the hallway. They were escorting a prisoner. The man from New Mexico is tall, pale, and mysterious.

“What's going on?” You edge closer to the window as they pass, the mystery man staring at Bruce and giving him an all-knowing smirk. Then his eyes shift to you, and the smirk drops, his brows furrow, and the same look of awe crosses his features that he gave you back in the basement of Project PEGASUS. And then he's out of sight.

“C'mon, they should be back by now,” Bruce says. You follow him out of the room and down a different hallway when you enter the bridge.

“Who should be back? Bruce-”

The monitors flick on around the room, projecting a live feed from a chamber. The green clad man is encased in a large glass prison. Your eyes scan the room, finding Natasha Romanoff seated at the large table in the middle of the room.

There's also a video playing in front of her, too. You come up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to you to give you a hug.

You met Nat after you joined SHIELD, being assigned to the New Mexico base along with Clint Barton. Nat had come and gone a few times, and you two got along well enough that you considered her a friend.

“I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to help Clint,” you whisper to her. She pulls back from the hug and gives you a serious look.

Nat looks down at your chest briefly, “don't be, I saw the footage.” She squeezes your bicep and returns to her chair. A sigh leaves you, letting go of some of the stress on your shoulders.

Looking up when you hear a few pairs of boots enter, you jolt in surprise.

“Thor?” You're already making your way towards him. He has a huge grin on his face as his arms open wide. He lifts you into a crushing hug, a big deep chuckle of your name rumbling in his chest as your arms wind around his neck.

“What are you doing here? I never thought I'd see you again,” you pull back to look at him, and he sets you down.

“Truth be told, I never thought I would be back on Midgard so soon,” his face somber, and he leaves a hand on your shoulder. “Not after the Bifrost was destroyed. This disastrous mess with Loki, I fear, is all my fault.”

You tilt your head, “Loki, your brother?”

As if on queue, the TV screens and monitors around the room pick up sound, Fury's and the stranger's voice echoing around the room.

You walk closer to Natasha, peering over her shoulder at the video that plays.

“In case it's unclear. You try to escape, you so much as scratch that glass,” Fury turns and presses a button. It opens a large hatch door on the floor below the glass chamber Loki stands in. “Thirty thousand feet, straight down in a steel trap. You get how that works?”

The hatch doors close a second later, and Fury points towards the man in the cell, “Ant,” then points to the control panel, “Boot.”

More words are exchanged between them, and then you're suddenly aware of someone staring a hole into the side of your head. When you look, there's a man in a red white and blue leotard all but glaring a hole through you.

You go to open your mouth, but he quickly snaps out of it and focuses back on the monitor in front of him. You look around to see if anyone notices, but everyone else is focused on other things.

“-to have the Tesseract, to have power. Unlimited power. And for what?” Loki stares at the camera with a mischievous grin, “A warm light for all mankind to share. And then be reminded what real power is.”

“He really grows on you, doesn't he?” Bruce jokes.

“Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what's his play?” The man in blue speaks up. He briefly makes eye contact with you and then turns his gaze to Thor.

Thor shakes his head like he zoned out a little, “he has an army called the Chitauri. They are not of Asgard or any known world. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

Every time someone has mentioned that glowing blue cube, the crystal scar on your chest pulses a little. Maybe from phantom pain from a few days ago, but it burns again when you bring your hand to it.

“Selvig?” Thor's question of your mentor's name snaps you out of the pain in your chest.

“He's an astrophysicist,” Bruce says.

“He's a friend,” you and Thor share a concerned look for Erik. You pace back towards Thor and put a hand on his overly large forearm, trying to comfort him. His hand dwarfs yours when he covers it.

“I don't think we should be focusing on Loki,” Bruce says. He begins to pace around, his eyes seeking a solution to a problem. “that guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell crazy on him.”

You stifle a snort when Thor goes rigid, “Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother.” You give a gentle squeeze of your hand, and Thor gives you a small nod.

“He killed 80 people in two days,” Nat simpers.

“He's adopted,” Thor supplies quietly.

“I think it's about the mechanics. Iridium, what did they need the iridium for?”

“It's a stabilizing agent,” you say. Another voice behind you also saying it at the same time.

“Means the portal won't collapse on itself, like it did at SHIELD.” Tony Stark. Of course. You met him once before, for the internship at Stark Industries, years ago, another lifetime ago.

Stark walks along the room, patting Thor on his bicep as he walks by, “no hard feelings, Point Break, you gotta mean swing.” He notices you, a stutter in his step and the brief furrow of his brow, then continues walking.

“The only major component he still needs is a power source,” Stark continues.

“Something of high energy density,” you cross your arms, nodding.

“Something to kick start the cube,” Stark finishes.

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear Astrophysics?” Agent Hill asks Stark.

“Last night. The packet. Selvig’s notes-”

“the extraction theory papers?” you asked. “I - I uh, helped him with those,” you say quieter, a heat rising to your cheeks when the eyes around the table turn to you.

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” You can see the star on his chest now. How could you miss it? Phil hasn't stopped talking about him for almost a year. Captain America himself. You blame the slip in memory due to the accident. You're sure no one else notices your memory slip.

“He's got to heat the cube to-”

“-to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin-,” you cut off Bruce.

And in turn he finishes your sentence,“-to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

Stark continues both your train of thought, “unless, Selvig figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

“Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet,” Bruce surmises. It's a lot to take in.

“Finally, people that speak English,” Stark says, he walks up to Bruce and shakes his hand, complimenting him on his research and how he turns into the Hulk.

Bruce gives a shy smile and thanks him. Bruce beckons you over as they turn to leave the room, and you follow behind, sharing one last glance at Thor. You give him a small wave when he nods at you.

Steve never considered himself a jealous person. Bucky had always made sure to include him in everything he did. Steve never felt left out with Bucky around.

So he wasn't sure what this feeling was, deep in his chest. It ached, it felt heavy, and it made his heart thud painfully behind his rib cage. He subconsciously wasn’t sure if it had to do with his heart murmur or the bruises on his sternum from the fight he got in the other day.

Steve had met you a few days ago. It was like you fell out of the sky, quite literally, in front of him. You gave him the most dazzling smile. He thought he was going blind. He had enough medical problems, and going blind wouldn't have surprised him.

So why were you here now? Talking and flirting with Bucky, of all people. Steve thought you liked him. You even said as much.

I like you like this, Steve. You even placed your hand on his cheek. His face turned hot under your touch.

Bucky caught Steve's eye over your shoulder and gave Steve a wink. He leaned in real close to your ear and said something. The breath from Bucky's lips fanning across your cheek and moving your hair.

Your hand came up to your mouth, and you laughed. Steve could see your shoulders shake, and then your hand landed on Bucky's chest.

Steve's nostrils flared, and he balled his fists so tight he thought the skin would split. And when he met Bucky's eyes again, his chest went warm. He turned on his heels and walked out of that bar so fast the soles of his shoes could catch fire.

“You ok, Cap?” Fury's voice snaps Steve out of his memory, eyes refocusing in the room. He had watched you follow Bruce and Tony down the hall to the lab, he assumes.

He was so surprised to see you standing there, embracing Thor like you were old friends. Hell, maybe you were. But then your eyes found his, and for a brief moment, hope flickered to life in Steve for the first time since coming out of the ice. But the light of recognition never triggered in your eyes, and they just continued to scan the room and back to Thor.

As you left, you tossed another glance behind you, small recognition in your eyes when you looked at him. Maybe you did remember. And then your gaze shifted to Thor again and gave a small reassuring wave.

Maybe it wasn't you he met 70 odd years ago. Maybe it was a relative. That's what he likes to think, anyway. That's what he keeps telling himself.

Steve stands, hands spread wide on the table in front of him as he looks at Director Fury. “Why is Charlie here?”

Fury looks confused for a brief moment, single eye squinting in question. “Who the hell is Charlie?”

Bruce tried and failed to hide the smile on his face, “and all I packed was a toothbrush.”

A small chuckle left your lips from the other side of the lab. You were trying to focus on the readings on the tablet in your hands and also adjusting the parameters of the search for the tesseract on the monitor in front of you. Display readings fluctuate as you expand the search to South America.

Bruce lets out a sharp ow when you hear the small spark of an electrical prod go off. you squeak in surprise as Captain America comes barging in at the same time.

“Hey!” His broad frame appears in front of you, blocking your other companions from view. “Are you nuts?”

“Jury's still out,” you can hear the shrug and smug smirk in Tony’s voice. “You're tiptoeing big man, you need to strut!”

“And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark,” the Captain argues back.

There's a ringing in your ears the longer they disagree and argue. A blue light flashes in your periphery, a sharp pain in your chest. You're vaguely aware of something shattering at your feet as you hunch in on yourself. The pain in your chest is unbearable, and the tearing at your throat is getting harsher by the second; pain in your vocal chords like you've been screaming for hours.

The searing pain suddenly stops, and when you can feel other sensations other than the agony in your chest, you open your eyes.

There's audible sighs of relief when your vision focuses after a few rapid blinks. Above you stand Tony, Bruce, and one very concerned Steve Rogers.

“Wha-” your throat was hoarse and dry, and you cough a few times to try and clear it. A gentle hand on your back tries to soothe away the ache.

“You ok, kid?”

“Give her some space.”

“Charlie, you with us?”

Your brow scrunch tight as your eyes cut to Captain America, “who the hell is Charlie?” He helps you stand and takes a step back, his hand coming up to run through his golden hair and then rub at the back of his neck.

Tony eyes the Star-Spangled man, eyes squinting in curiosity.

“I'm sorry, you look like someone I used to know. You know, before,” Rogers shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe a relativ-”

There's a beep from across the lab, and Tony perks up, an audible ah ha! as he makes his way to the monitor. He deflates when it was just a false alarm. Mumbling something about JARVIS taking his sweet old time.

Steve lets out a loud huff, turning to leave but stopping in the doorway, “just hurry and find the cube,” and then he swiftly exits.

Bruce is still crowded in your space, trying to make sure you're ok, a tentative hand on your shoulder to ground you.

“You alright over there, Nightlight?” Tony asks.

You snort softly,”Y-you're one to talk. I don-don’t know what happened,” you put your head in your hands. “At least the pain is gone.”

Bruce makes a startled noise, and when you look up, Tony is in your face, and you try not to jump in surprise.

Tony taps your chest with the end of the small prod, it clinks on contact, and he hums. “I'm sure it's fine,” he shrugs.

“Tony I don't-” Bruce starts but cuts himself off when you turn and leave.

Answers. You need answers, and the only one who you think might have them is currently locked up in a cell made for the Hulk.

You peered through the glass window just to make sure no one else was in the room. Natasha was exiting, and as her door closed with a woosh, yours opened.

Loki had his back to you, hands clasped behind his back. When he sensed another entering the large empty space, he turned his head to glare over his shoulder.

His back straightened when he caught sight of you, though. Turning to face you head on and stalk to the glass as you took hesitant steps forward.

“Well, well,” his voice echoed in the room, a smirk pulling up one side of his lips, “ if it isn't the little mortal. Tell me, do the others know about what the Tesseract has done to you? Your little magic trick?”

You shake your head. The phantom pain from earlier was crawling up your body, and you brought a hand to your chest as a shudder went through you. Loki arched an eyebrow at you when you stepped closer.

“I don't know what's happening to me,” Your throat felt tight, and you pulled the shirt collar down to show him the crystalline scar on your chest.

“My, you are full of surprises, little mortal,” his smirk was anything but teasing. Glittering blue eyes stared down his nose in condescending fashion.

“Can you remove it?” You gave a hopeful look, “you can do magic, right? Please.” You stepped closer to the glass, breath fogging up the outside of it as you stared up at Loki.

A sneer pulled at his lips as his shoulders squared tight, “I am not a magician.”

You both studied each other for a moment, and then a sly grin spread across his face.

An explosion rocked the helicarrier so hard you lost your footing and stumbled back, grabbing onto a railing. Just as you're about to get your bearings and stand, another explosion goes off, and you fall, hitting your head on the railing as you go down.

“ow,” you mumble, rolling over on your side. “Phil…” Looking up, you see a very large gun in his hands.

He spares you a small glance, then focuses in front of him, “Move away, please.”

You use the railing to sit up, kneeling on your knees as you wait for your head to stop spinning.

Loki has his hands up as he moves away from the control panel. A voice calls your name, and you see Thor in the glass case.

“Thor,” you rasp, and grasp along the railing as you make your way to him. “Are you ok?” You ask when you get close. He nods, and he looks over your shoulder at Loki and Coulson.

“Even I don't know what it does. Wanna find out?” Phil smirks.

One minute, you're looking at Loki near the console, and then there's another behind Coulson. Spear in hand.

Time seems to slow as Loki double pierces Phil in the back and sticks out his chest. The audible gasp that leaves his lips seems to echo in your mind.

You hear Thor yell, and you scramble forward to get to Coulson as he collapses to the ground.

“Phil, no. No, no, look at me. Hey,” your hands are frantic as you press them to the wound, pouring blood into his white shirt.

He says your name, coughing a little, and blood leaks from his lips to spill down his chin.

“I-its's - it's ok. Do-don’t worry,” there's a thumb pressed to your cheek to wipe the tears from your face. You didn't even realize you started crying.

You feel the sudden onslaught of wind as the hatch opens behind you, but you can't bring yourself to look away from Coulson. The release of hydraulics is loud in your ears and then the release of locks. And you know Thor is gone.

The hatch closes, and it's quiet again. Only your sniffles and the ragged breathing of Phil can be heard.

He turns his head to the side, “you're gonna lose,” his voice is weak, and you look behind you to Loki. His face is impassive as he looks down at you and Phil.

“Am I?”

Phil takes a labored deep breath, “it's in your nature.” his hand grabs yours and holds on loosely.

Loki scoffs, “your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?”

“you lack conviction,” you say, and you and Phil fire the massive weapon at Loki. He goes flying back through a window as debris falls on him.

“so, that's what it does.” his eyes come back to you, and he blinks slowly.

You take the earpiece from his ear and put it in your own, “Agent Coulson is down, I need medical assistance in detention bay 2. Repeat Agen-”

“I'm on my way,” you hear Fury grunt.

“Sir,” you choke out, trying to keep Phil awake. He smiles weakly up at you.

“Nightlight, you alright up there?” Tony's voice comes through the comm in your ear.

“Yeah, just. I'm fine,” you give Coulson a light slap on the cheek. “Stay with me, don't close those eyes, mister.”

Coulson gives you an affirming hum.

There's a rush of footfalls coming behind you, and you turn with a relieved sigh, hoping it's Fury and the medics.

“Hey! Get off me! No!” Rough hands grip your arms and haul you up and away from Phil, and all he can do is plead with silent eyes. “Phil!”

“What's happening, Agent?”

“Nightlight! Talk to us!”

“Get off m- ah!” There's a sharp pain to the back of your head, and your vision starts to go black. The last thing you see is Phil as you pass out.

It's opening night at the Stark Expo, and you can't stop fidgeting nervously backstage. Howard notices and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had asked you for help in the 'secret SSR lab', your powers made the heavy lifting easy, your knowledge of 'future tech' - Howard likes to call it - helped him finalize the last few projects before the Expo takes off.

Howard managed to convince you to wear a dress tonight. At least it was practical, it has pockets. The blouse was green plaid, and the skirt was a pale beige. He wanted you both to match, but he'd take it. Before you could change your mind, Howard had rushed you out of the house at record speed.

"Relax, kid," he fixes his tie a little, "everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna do great. I'll be there the whole time."

You fidget again, running your hands down the front of your dress, then the bracelet around your wrist Howard gave you before arriving at the Expo. The single jewel adorning it was the same color as the crystal scar on your chest. You nearly broke down into tears when he presented it to you.

"You're the sister I never knew I wanted - or needed - it's just a small thanks," he said it so nonchalantly, like it was an everyday thing. You shoved him and then pulled him in for a bone crushing hug. Howard was definitely the brother you never knew you needed as well. And you hope he knew that, too.

"Why can't you just get one of the girls to introduce you? Isn't that what they're getting paid for?" You gripe. Crowds were not your thing. Public speaking was certainly not your thing.

"I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

Howard rolled his eyes, grumbling about you being overly dramatic. He shoved the speech in your hands for last-minute prep.

You can feel your palms begin to sweat just thinking about giving the opening speech for the Stark Expo. A few hundred people would be out there. Watching you.

"Oh, God." You can't do this. What were you thinking? You didn't thrive in the limelight like Howard. You didn't have Tony's charisma with the media. You can't go out there and talk about the Expo and the things Howard and the other brilliant minds of this age hope to achieve by being here.

Howard knocked your chin with his knuckles, placing his top hat on his head, "Don't stress about it, kid. Just let me do all the talking," he gave you a wink.

You could hear the music flare off and end, the girls on stage finishing their routine, one calling and introducing Howard.

He raised his eyebrow at you in a 'See? I took care of it' kind of way. You let out a huge sigh of relief. The weight of the last few hours stress falling away and off your shoulders. There were cheers and applause so loud you could barely hear anything else from backstage, so you pear out the curtain just in time for Howard to smooch one of the girls on stage.

When he pulls away, he give her a sly wink, then sees you roll your eyes at him on the side stage. He was a natural on stage, he speaks about the flying car Stark Industries was hoping to manufacture for the future. You had some input, having worked with Tony on his Iron Man repulsors, but left out some core details about it.

Howard may have grumbled about you withholding information, but eventually let it go.

There definitely weren't any flying cars in your future. Just as fast as the car on stage started hovering, and gasps of awe could be heard in the crowd, the repulsors short circuited, and it came crashing down.

"Well, I did say a few years, didn't I?" Howard tries laughing it off, but you see the tick in his jaw. There was still applause and cheers, Howard smiled and waved.

"Before we move on and you fine folks get to see the rest of the Expo," he continued, he glanced your way, giving you a soft smile. "I'd love to introduce you to the other brains in the family. The woman who is responsible for over half the things you'll see here."

Your heart leaps, hands wringing together as Howard looks back at you again, hand held out and arm stretched toward you.

"Please give a wonderful welcome to my baby sister. You might know her, God knows I love her: Charlotte Stark!" There were more cheers and whistles, Howard's bright pleading eyes begged you on stage. And how could you say no now?

With one deep breath, you walked on stage, the bright lights not as blinding as you thought they might be. You focus on Howard, his smile wide as you make your way over to him. He takes your hand, and as soon as he has a grip on you, he twirls you around. And when you stop on the other side of him, laughter bubbles up before you can stop it. Howard laughs with you, and for a moment, you forget about the crowd of people and why you were terrified to begin with. He squeezes your fingers before letting go and resting his elbow on your shoulder. His other hand holding the microphone between you both.

"Charlie, say something nice to the people of New York," the mic points at you, and you gaze out into the crowd. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.

You laugh lightly, head titling to the side, "Somethin' nice," Howard groans, a quiet 'smart ass', you elbow him in the ribs. "Hello, everyone. I'm not very good at public speaking. Howie got all the charm and charisma in the family. But I did get the good looks, so I suppose I won in that deal."

Howard lets out an offended 'Hey!' and you giggle. It wasn't so bad, not with Howard by your side. The two of you work well together on stage. Playing off small banter and getting hollers from the crowd of people felt good. Natural.

After explaining a short summary of what people could expect from the Expo, you and HOward took your leave of the stage, whistles, catcalls, and applause following your exit.

"That was -" grinning ear to ear, slightly breathless.

"Pretty amazing, right? You're a natural kid."

Howard wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and the two of you walked around the surrounding vendors for a few minutes.

"-While men are layin' down their lives? I can do as well as them, and I got no right to do any less." Your heart does a leap against your ribs. That sounded like Steve. Your Steve. As you pull away from Howard to get closer, you see him and Bucky. Disagreeing, or arguing, either one most likely.

"that's the thing you don't get, Bucky. It's not about me."

"Right, 'cause you have nothing to prove," Bucky doesn't miss a beat.

Howard nudges you. You followed his line of sight to see Dr. Erskine a few feet from Steve and Bucky. This must be it, you think. The tipping point. The deciding factor that changes Steves life forever.

"Charlie?" A surprise call of your name flows from Steve. You give him a smile and wave, making your way over to the pair.

"Steve, James," you greet them. "staying out of trouble, I hope?" You eye them.

"'Course, dollface," Bucky says. The hat on top of his head is lopsided, his flirty smirk he gives you go well together. "Can't say the same about Steve, thought," he cuts Steve a glare.

You hum, "I gathered as much." You motion to the faint bruise on Steve's cheek. Poorly covered up with makeup.

He shrugs in response, "He had it coming," you hum again.

"You both look dashing," you say, Steve's clothes are a little too big for him, but they still look nice. Bucky's wearing his army greens. He's very handsome, you have to admit. "Sergeant, huh?" You flick the medals adorning his breast pocket.

"My last night, doll," he responds. There's a flash of something behind his eyes. "You should come out dancin' with us."

"Hey, Sarge! We gettin' sodas or what?" you all turn to see two girls waving at BUcky. His cheeks turn red.

He clears his throat, "Yeah, we are," he begins to walk away. Before he gets too far, he turns back to Steve, "Promise me you won't do anything stupid before i get back?"

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Bucky signs and closes the distance between them, They hug each other tight. "You're a punk."

"You're a jerk."

It seems too intimate for you, not meant for your eyes. But they part. Bucky looks to your arms spread wide. You step up into his embrace, arms wrapping around his neck as his circle your waist.

"Thanks for that dance, Sarge," you whisper in his ear. When he pulls away, you kiss his cheek. "Be safe over there, y'hear me?" You try not to choke on the words, knowing his future and what's in store for James Buchanan Barnes, almost makes you want to tell him.

Tell him it only gets worse from here. War changes people. This war changes two best friends for the foreseeable future. Fate twists and takes them and makes these two best friends completely different people on the other side of the century.

"Anything for you, dollface," Bucky says in the space between you.

"Don't win the war until i get there," Steve tells him. You loop your arm with Steve's as Bucky backs away. His hand comes up to his hat, and he gives a flirty salute. Then he's turning and joining the girls that were waiting for him. You think one asks if he was really friends with Howard Stark's sister.

"So, what now, Tough Guy?" You ask Steve, the both of you still staring off at Bucky's retreating form.

"I've got something I need to do first," he begins to walk further into the recruitment office.

"I'll wait for you out here, okay?"

Steve shakes his head, "You don't have to do that, Charlie, really. I'm sure you have better things to do than spend your time with me."

You scoff, "No offense, Steve, but shut up." His eyes go wide. "I like hangin' out with you, dummy. We may not have known each other very long, but you're my friend. Whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Steve stares at you for a good minute, blinking slowly. He smiles small and then nods. "Yeah, okay." As soon as Steve is out of sight, you search for Dr. Erskine. You find him around the corner.

"Doctor," you greet him, he turns to you, surprised, "I know about your plan. Let me join the SSR. Please. I feel like I need to do this."

"My dear," he gives you a knowing smile, "It's not up to me. Why not talk to your brother about this? Surely, he could just bring you along like before. Mr. Stark hardly takes no for an answer. Which I'm sure you are well aware of, yes?"

You laugh, "Of course. I'll uh - leave you to it, then."

Next>>

#The Way Back #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #Captain America the first avenger #The Avengers

60 notes · View notes

camaelias · 7 days ago

Text

Sunny Winter Day

CHAPTER 1: The Man Across the Hall

CHAPTER 2 - The Winter Soldier

CHAPTER 3 - Whispers in the wall

CHAPTER 4 - Black Coffee and Cookie

Pairing : Grumpy Winter Soldier x Sunshine Reader

Tags : enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn

PLOT : you get really drunk and bucky really pissed

Author's note : okay this chapter is REALLY long but it was so fun to write! oh well, enjoy

CHAPTER 5 : Ambient Empathy

The party wasn’t your idea.

In fact, it sounded terrible when Natasha first brought it up over lunch: something about morale, birthdays, and how Tony had a new whiskey he needed everyone to taste immediately or he’d combust from lack of attention

“We haven’t had a proper hangout in weeks,” Nat had said, her fork twirling through a sad-looking salad “And I’m not talking about a ‘let’s all sit in a conference room and trauma-dump’ kind of bonding. Actual fun, dumb fun!”

You'd hummed in agreement, half-distracted by the folder in your lap, nodding at all the right moments “And,” she added, eyes narrowing, “you’re coming”

You blinked “I never said I wouldn’t”

“You didn’t say you would either” Her tone was calm, but knowing “No excuses, you’ll even wear something nice, I’ll make sure of it”

That night the Compound felt like something out of a memory you didn’t have: warm lights strung up across the ceiling, jazz weaving into synth-pop, tables pushed to the corners so there was space to laugh and spill drinks and maybe dance if anyone was brave enough. Someone lit candles in old mason jars... the whole thing looked like a Pinterest board accidentally exploded in a highly classified government facility.

You were wearing a dress : dark cherry red, simple, fitted through the ribs, soft on your skin, comfortable enough to move in. Natasha approved. Your hair was down and your hands only shimmered faintly gold at the tips when you first walked in, nervous energy sparking as you scanned the room.

He stood near the back, shoulder half-propped against a column, dark jacket over plain clothes. His sleeves were long, cuffed once. Gloved hands relaxed at his sides. He didn’t have a drink, just a careful kind of stillness to him, like someone watching a room for danger that wasn’t there. He saw you almost immediately, his eyes tracked you across the room like a reflex.

You didn’t look away this time, just smiled. He didn’t smile back, not exactly, but the corners of his eyes softened, and he dipped his head a fraction like yeah, I see you too.

Fifteen minutes in, you were already holding two drinks you didn’t ask for (Tony), in the middle of a story you didn’t fully remember starting (Clint), while Bruce quietly explained to someone how your aura trick worked-“She doesn’t read minds, she reads energy... It’s instinctual, not cognitive, like… ambient empathy”

You rolled your eyes and made a mental note to talk to him about the term ambient empathy later.

The party was in full swing now-Steve was losing a bet to Nat over some 90s pop trivia, Clint was trying to play beer pong off the edge of the balcony (“It’s a challenge round!”) and someone had already spiked the fruit punch. You were laughing, actually laughing, when James reappeared beside you. You hadn’t seen him approach but there he was, eyes on you, something different in his face. Curiosity. Focus. A small frown pulling at the corner of his mouth like he didn’t realise he was doing it

“You okay?” you asked, half-turning toward him

“You glow more when you’re happy,” he said, low voice

Your chocked on your drink “That’s not creepy at all”

His brow twitched, “Didn’t mean it like that”

You tilted your head, “How did you mean it, then?”

He looked at you like he was trying to understand, not just observe, then he chuckled half amused half exasperated as he shook his head

“You’re different when you’re like this,” he said eventually

“Like what?” he gave you a side look before answering

“Unarmed”

“I am always armed,” you said, wiggling your fingers so they sparked faintly gold “Just selectively threatening”

That made something flicker behind his eyes. He chuckled again.

“Besides,” you added, bumping your shoulder lightly into his, “you’re one to talk. You’ve been standing there like you’re guarding a vault”

“I am guarding a vault,” he said too quickly, then he nodded toward Tony across the room “That man had 8 drinks and no filter”

You snorted “Okay, fair, but you haven’t even had one, a drink I mean” He flashed you a small smile, his eyes locked in yours

"I was just waiting for the right company"

Before you could respond, Tony’s voice rang out across the room

“Is that Barnes socialising? Somebody mark the calendar. Take a picture. Frame it. Start a shrine”

You turned, hand instinctively grabbing James’ sleeve, like you could shield him from the attention

He didn’t flinch

Just leaned a little closer and muttered, “Tell me he’s not coming over here”

“He’s absolutely coming over here”

“Cool,” James muttered “Love that for me”

And then, yep. Tony Stark.

“Barnes,” he grinned “Looking downright festive; is that a brooding pose or do you need to be rebooted?”

You opened your mouth to intervene, but James cut in first : “Tony”

One word

Flat

It shut Stark up for a whole two seconds, then he turned to you

“So, what did Steve and I told you about boyfriends young lady? and you are distracting our very much needed head of security to make it worse?" he took a sip of his drinks and looked at you behind the dark lenses of the party sun glasses that were slipping lazily on the bridge of his nose "You are a bad influence Sunshine"

“I prefer glowing influence,” you said sweetly

“She’s like a heat lamp for emotionally stunted ex soldiers” Clint chimed in from somewhere behind the bar

“Thanks, Clint,” you called back “So nice when you contribute”

“I contribute truth,” he replied holding up his drink

Natasha passed behind you and leaned in just long enough to murmur, “You’re doing great, he hasn’t bolted once”

“Good sign,” you whispered back

You glanced at James -who still hadn’t moved- and decided to push your luck

“Do you dance?” you asked, looking up at him with mock innocence

He raised an eyebrow “No”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“That sounded like a maybe”

“I was trained in knife work, not foxtrots”

You shrugged “That’s just stab-dancing”

He blinked

And then, finally -finally -he huffed a laugh. Just a small one, but it was real. You caught it like a firefly and stored it away for later

“I’m not dancing,” he said, but his voice had warmed at the edges

“Okay then, it's drink-pong duel time then, loser has to sing karaoke” Said Clint as he passed by you two

James looked at you as if he was asking for help

“Absolutely not”

Clint was already dragging a folding table into place

“Too late, Barnes, you’re in the ring now”

“I’m not singing”

“Then win,” you said, flashing him a grin. A beat passed.

Then James rolled his eyes “You’re insufferable”

“Yet you’re still standing here mr James Buchanan Barnes”

Another pause. His gaze flicked down to your hand - your fingers glowing faintly again, not from nerves this time, but from something else. A quiet kind of joy

“You can call me Bucky”

You blinked at him. Not shocked, just… surprised

“Yeah?” you smiled bright

He gave you a nod

“Well, alright then,” you said cracking a grin “Welcome to the losing team, Bucky”

His brows knit “We’re teammates?”

Clint, already halfway through setting up the table, raised a hand “Drafted. Sorry. I called dibs on Nat, you two are the leftovers”

Michael, the SHIELD agent that you usually spar with, handed you both red solo cups like it was a relay race “Rules are simple: two cups each, alternating throws. First team out sings karaoke. You miss a cup, you drink. You land a cup, they drink”

You looked at Bucky “You ready?”

He glanced down at the plastic cup in his hand like it had personally offended him “I’ve done worse missions”

“High praise,” you said, already grinning “Let’s smoke ‘em”.

You were up first. Your throw was decent : spiraled a little left, but landed. Clint groaned dramatically and took a swig from his cup

“Luck,” he muttered

“My aura guided it,” you shot back, tossing him a wink. Bucky didn’t smile, but his eyes crinkled slightly. He took his shot without comment. It arced just right, hit the rim, bounced once and dropped

Nat raised an eyebrow at him “Didn’t take you for a party game savant”

“Didn’t take you for a sore loser,” he said

You choked on your drink

“Damn, Barnes,” Tony said, eyebrows shooting up

Clint groaned again “Great. He’s funny now”

Your next shot missed wildly : bounced off the table entirely and smacked into the edge of the couch, you winced

“Ambient empathy, huh?” Bucky said, dry

“I’m distracted,” you replied

“By what?”

“By how serious you look playing a game involving plastic cups and peer pressure”

He raised an eyebrow “This is serious”

“You’re smiling”

“I’m not”

“You are”

“I’m scowling”

“That is not a scowl, Buckaroo”

He froze “Did you just-”

“Yup”

He turned slowly toward you, deadpan “We’re not there yet”

“Okay,” you said brightly, “noted. No Buckaroo”

You grinned over your drink. He shook his head like he regretted every life decision that led to this moment. But he was laughing. Quiet, almost under his breath, but it was there.

A few rounds later, you were tied - two cups each - and the tension was starting to mount. The rest of the team had gathered like an audience, cheering (heckling) from the couches

“Pressure’s on,” you murmured as Bucky lined up his next shot

“I don’t fold under pressure,” he said. He threw. It landed. Nat cursed under her breath.

You reached out and high-fived him without thinking, he actually met it, and it wasn't a limp high-five either but a real one. Solid. Confident.

“See?” you said, bumping your shoulder lightly into his again “Dream team”

He smirked- barely there, but real “It’s a high-stakes operation, I'm adapting”

“You’re adapting to me, Barnes"

Another look. A little longer this time

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess I am”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Clint’s voice cut in:

“Okay, flirting team, wrap it up, last round.”

Steve snorted

Final shot. You held your breath as Bucky leaned forward, lined it up, and missed by a hair. Clint whooped.

“You had one job,” you said, mock-scandalized

Bucky tilted his head at you “You missed three” he had an almost amused half smile. You sighed dramatically and downed the last of your drink “Fine. We’ll sing, but I pick the song”

He blinked “You’re actually doing it?”

“You’re not?”

He stared at you like you’d just suggested cartwheeling off the roof “I don’t sing”

You held out your hand “Time to adapt, Bucky”

He looked at your hand for a beat, and just before he took it Tony clapped his hands, the sound slicing clean through the post-game chatter

“Alright, alright, put the karaoke mic down, Barnes,” he said, pointing directly at you “We’ve got unfinished business. You lost. That means party trick” Tony grinned excited

You stopped in your tracks “Oh come on, Tony”

“Yes!” Natasha called from her throne of throw pillows on the couch

“Obligatory, mandatory,” Clint added, raising his glass “Don’t deny us Glowbug”

You shot Bucky a look “You see what I put up with?”

He shrugged, pretending to be neutral, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth

“C’mon young lady” Tony said, smug as ever “Light show, like right now”

“I’m not- ” you started

“It’s fine,” Bruce interjected gently, stepping in like the calming presence he always was “You’ve got control now, just keep it ambient”

You shot him a look. “We’ve talked about the phrase ‘keep it ambient’ I sound like a scented candle” You sighed dramatically “Fine. You people are relentless”

You took a breath. Just one, in and out, then you let it happen

From your fingertips, golden light began to rise : slow, soft, not blinding or loud. It shimmered like dusk on still water.

The gold shimmered outward in waves, it brushed against the people closest to you first. Clint blinked, then blinked again, murmuring something like whoa. Natasha’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner, and Steve, who’d been sitting stiffly in the corner for most of the night, visibly exhaled like a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying had just slipped off his shoulders. And that’s when you felt it.

A pull

Something… giving, releasing, like your light had found a frequency beyond visibility. You didn’t know what it was doing exactly, only that the moment it passed through someone, something quiet inside them seemed to shift. A softening relief.

You turned slightly and saw Bucky. His eyes were closed, ot tight, not defensive, just… still

The glow hovered near him and, strangely, stayed

It didn’t bounce or ripple, it just lingered. Settled on his shoulders. You watched how the lines in his face had eased. His jaw, always tight, had unclenched, and his chest rose slow, deep, as though he’d been holding a breath since the moment he walked through the door. For a moment everything was quiet.

You blinked once, then again, hands still faintly aglow. The warmth had dimmed a little, but your fingertips still pulsed with that same golden shimmer.

You didn’t know what just happened, you’d never done that before

“Okay,” you said, voice trying very hard not to shake “That’s… new”

Bruce was in front of you before the last word even left your mouth, glasses already pulled from the inside pocket of his cardigan. His eyes were lit up, the way only a scientist's can be when the theory starts cracking open in real time.

He didn’t touch you, Bruce was too gentle for that, but his eyes flicked from your hands to your face and back again, like maybe the glow would spell something out for him if he just stared hard enough.

“Did you feel that?” he asked, “That was, wow, that was like... like an emotional transference field. You weren’t just projecting light, you were regulating...modulating energy at a neurochemical level”

Steve leaned in from behind him, his eyes going from him to you with a slight frown “Alright, dial it down... please translate”

Bruce waved a hand “She’s like… you know how sunlight helps regulate circadian rhythms and makes people feel better?”

Tony blinked “No”

“Vitamin D, mood stabilisation, overall emotional uplift,” Bruce clarified, gesturing vaguely toward you “She’s that. But, like… concentrated”

“So what I’m hearing is,” Tony said, pointing with his drink, “she’s the cure to seasonal depression in a dress, got it”

Clint snorted from the couch and made a joke you didn't hear, Steve was still standing just to the side, arms crossed loosely, and there was something soft behind his eyes. Almost proud, like watching a kid hit their first home run

“That was good,” he said simply “Whatever that was, you gave people something”

You tried to smile at him. You really, really did

But your chest—

God

Your chest was on fire

You could feel it beneath your ribs, blooming slow and deep like molten glass. It didn’t pulse, it throbbed and radiated. Not a sharp pain but a consuming one. You wrapped your arms around yourself without realising it, the gesture small, instinctive, a poor shield for something that felt like you chewed broken glass

A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle. Except sometimes it does. Sometimes it burns all the way down to do it.

They didn’t notice

Natasha had turned back to Steve, muttering something about new training routines, Bruce was practically vibrating with hypotheses, Tony had returned to his corner of the party already trying to figure out how to harness your powers for sustainable nightlife energy. Laughter was returning, the moment was fading. Except for one pair of eyes. He was still watching.

Bucky.

You looked away quickly. Too fast. Which of course made it worse.

He started walking toward you

“I need a drink,” you said to no one in particular, already turning “Like, now”

No one argued, no one followed except-

“Hey,” came a voice low behind you as you reached the makeshift bar, already fumbling with one of the vodka bottles, hands shaking just enough to spill a few drops “You alright?”

You didn’t turn around. Just popped the cap, took a long sip

“Peachy,” you said

A beat

Then another

Then, gently, “Don’t lie”

You swallowed hard, and when you finally turned your head he was right there. Not hovering, just there, steady as ever. His brows were drawn, mouth flat. One gloved hand flexed at his side like he wanted to reach out and didn’t know if he was allowed to. You didn’t mean to say it out loud but it slipped

“It hurts”

There. Soft. Barely audible.

But he heard you, you knew he did. His jaw tightened.

You waited for the lecture : the suggestion to sit down, to tell Bruce, to get medical, to stop using your powers so recklessly, but it didn’t come.

He just stood there, watching you, and said

“You don’t have to prove anything tonight”

That’s what undid you. You blinked fast, shook your head, smiled like it didn’t mean anything. Then tipped your vodka bottle toward him

“Let me have tonight,” you said “Just this, let me be fine”

He didn’t answer, not out loud, but his eyes—those goddamn eyes—they said he knew you were lying. And they said he’d let you do it anyway just this once. So you threw back the rest of your drink and let yourself spin back into the noise and the light and the mess of bodies and laughter, trying to forget the way your ribs still burned and the fact that you’d just become something new.

The second drink went down too easy.

You weren’t a lightweight, exactly, but pain made the edges of everything sharper, and liquor dulled just enough of it to make the buzz feel like a mercy. You could still feel the burn behind your ribs, soft and searing like a glowing coal, but it was background now. Manageable and far away.

So you drank again

And then, well, you came alive.

It started with the shoes

You’d kicked them off somewhere near the armchair Bruce had claimed and now padded barefoot across the compound’s sleek floors like it was your own personal runway. Your hair was loose, your eyes shimmered, every movement sparked a little glow that you couldn’t quite contain, but for once, you didn’t try. You dance without freely, giggling and laughing every time you would lose your balance a bit

“God, she’s drunk,” said Tony, delighted

“I’m festive,” you corrected, now spinning on your heel

Tony leaned in toward Steve “That’s your cue Cap. She’s gonna fall over and take out the new speakers”

But Steve just sipped his cider, amused “She’s alright”

“Oh, I’m amazing,” you announced, arms raised dramatically as you swayed toward the makeshift dance floor “I’m the emotional support rave this party never knew it needed”

Bucky watched all of this happen like a man trapped in a hostage situation no one else could see. He stood stiff near the bar, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, like he was ready to lunge at the first sign of disaster. And given the way your barefoot self just tripped over a beanbag chair trying to curtsy to Pepper, he was seeing disaster where everyone else saw charm. Steve stepped beside him

“She’s got energy tonight” Bucky didn’t respond

“Different than the last few weeks,” Steve tried again, nodding toward you as you laughed so hard at something Natasha said you nearly spilled your drink “It’s good to see her smile”

“She’s drunk,” Bucky muttered

Steve raised a brow “So?”

“So she’s gonna fall, or light something on fire, or both”

Steve gave him a long, assessing look

Then, lightly “You know you can just say you’re worried about her”

“I’m not”

“Sure”

“She is my mission” a muscle of his jawline jumped as he almost gave himself away "you all are, I'm the head of security and she is not being careful"

“Okay”

Steve smiled silently as he sipped his cider again, searched for Tony's eyes through the crowd and gave the tiniest nod towards Bucky when he found them. Bucky's eyes on the other hand flicked toward you every time you were more than 5 meters away. When you leaned a little too far back laughing, he straightened. When you stumbled near the balcony, he took a single step forward before catching himself and clenching his fists.

He didn’t know when he started watching out for you.

He just did.

It was muscle memory now, like breathing

Tony noticed

“Barnes,” he said, slinging an arm around Bucky’s tense shoulders, “you are vibrating at a very specific frequency and I think I know what it is”

Bucky gave him a slow, unimpressed stare “Don’t”

“Protective. Irritable. You keep tracking her like a sniper scope in a soap opera. Don’t worry,” Tony said breezily, “we’ve all had a thing for her at some point. It’s the light. Very biblical.”

“Do you want to be punched?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, but I get it-”

Bucky didn’t hear the rest, because you were laughing again and this time it was a full-body laugh: head thrown back, eyes crinkled, hand over your chest like you couldn’t contain it. Natasha was pretending to be offended, Clint was gasping for breath. Whatever you’d said, it had landed. Hard.

And you were glowing again

Not just your hands this time, your whole damn body. It was subtle, like the light had seeped under your skin and decided to stay, like it belonged there, and that, that was the part that pissed him off

Not the danger, not the recklessness, it was the joy

You were joy in a bottle someone shook too hard and left uncorked, and even in pain, you gave it freely, carelessly

And he hated it

He caught you by the elbow when you nearly slipped on a puddle of spilled cider, steadied you, and said gruffly, “You’re gonna fall”

You looked up at him, eyes glazed and bright, lips pink with drink and laughter

“Oh hey, soldier,” you said, beaming “You came to dance?”

“I came to make sure you don’t break your neck”

“You’re no fun”

“And you’re drunk”

“And you’re hot when you’re worried,” you said without thinking. His brow furrowed, his mouth twitched. You turned- well, spun, really-and promptly lost your balance. It would’ve been a disaster if it weren’t for the gloved hand that caught you by the waist, firm and immediate

“You’re done”

You blinked up at him, grinning “I’m not done. I’m just pre-pausing”

“You’re drunk,” he said flatly, one arm still around you

“I’m hydrated,” you argued, jabbing a finger into his chest “I had punch. Lots of fruit in it. Very responsible”

“That punch was 90% vodka”

“Tony said it was organic”

He stared at you for a moment, unblinking. His hand was still on your waist. You hadn’t noticed until right then how warm he was

“You’re going to bed,” he said

“Oh, how romantic”

He didn’t rise to the bait “I’m head of security”

“And I’m a delight”

“C’mon doll” His voice softened, just a little. He exhaled like he was weighing the pros and cons of sedating you and hauling you over his shoulder

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, you grinned like a child in response

“C’mon, ” he said, tugging you gently toward the hallway “Let’s go sunshine”

You stumbled a little but he adjusted without thinking, steadying you with both hands now, one at your elbow, the other on your lower back. Every point of contact buzzed, something that made your breath hitch

He noticed

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low

“Totally,” you said, smiling “I just… got a lot of sparkle in my system”

“Sparkle,” he repeated

“Mmhmm” You leaned into his side as you walked “You ever feel like… like you’re too full of light? Like you’re gonna burst out of your own skin? No? Just me? Cool”

He didn’t answer

But his hand didn’t move from your back

The compound hallways were quiet now. Warm lamplight buzzed overhead, and your footsteps echoed just a little on the tile. You were still half-laughing at your own joke when you tripped over absolutely nothing and stumbled hard into his side

This time, he caught you completely

One hand on your hip, one hand curled around your wrist. You were pressed against him now, your chest to his ribs, your face tilted up because he was so goddamn tall and everything felt loud and hot and close.

“You shouldn’t push yourself like that”

“I know”

“You don’t”

You shrugged “I like making people feel good”

“You can’t do that if you’re dead”

You blinked

Something flickered in his expression then- guilt, fear, something-but it vanished before you could name it

His eyes flicked down to your mouth, once

Back up

His breathing changed

“Bucky,” you whispered, and you didn’t even realise you’d said it until the sound of it made his fingers twitch against your skin

He was drowning, you could see it. In the way his throat worked as he swallowed, in the way his grip didn’t loosen, didn’t retreat. His lips parted for just a fraction, and just for a second, just a flicker—he looked like he wanted to say more. Like there was a dam behind his teeth and if he opened his mouth again it would all come out

But he couldn’t.

Because somewhere in the back of his mind, the wrong voice whispered: She’s not yours. She’s the mission.

And he couldn’t remember why that was supposed to help anymore.

CHAPTER 6 - Do you want to stay?

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #enemies to lovers #grumpy x sunshine #steve rogers #ao3 #captain america #marvel #winter solider x reader #drunk reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes

25 notes · View notes

70yearsofwinter · 3 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤa plotted starter for @xlianovna

ㅤA meeting with Nick Fury was not the ideal start to his day, but that wasn't exactly surprising considering how this modern chapter to Bucky's life had started with an (attempted) assassination on the man. For that alone, Bucky figured hearing him out fell somewhere into that 'amends' thing his therapist was on about, but there was still a certain understanding in the back of his brain that whatever Fury wanted, he'd likely be fighting for his life before the end of this.

ㅤHearing him out put that thought into italics in his mind, if not bold text, but Fury was right; Bucky was currently unaffiliated with any group or government beyond residing in the United States and being friends with Sam Wilson. There was no team, no missions, just Bucky trying to figure his shit out and not go to the Raft for shit he'd been forced to do while brainwashed as a POW. Doing any work for Fury felt like a nudge in the direction of a team or some sort of affiliation, but again with the amends.

ㅤThat, and he couldn't say no once he heard what the job was, though his face remained impassive and he had no way of knowing if Fury realized that was an ace in his sleeve, or not.

ㅤNatasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, was secretly alive. Alive temporarily, Fury was concerned, unless she received prompt and extremely effective back-up. The Winter Soldier was what they needed, and he would be going in alone, extracting their Widow and returning her to the safety of a rendezvous point for support. Presumably she would continue working in the shadows afterward, they'd part ways, and they'd move on with whatever these lives were now.

ㅤThat was how he told himself that it would work out, and as he infiltrated the site (which felt like too fancy of a word when it was just a damn warehouse that had been abandoned and used for privacy), he had to internally laugh a little and shake his head at the complete disregard for security. Honestly, they had the Black Widow captive and didn't think they'd need the extra hands on deck? Saying that he fought his way in was giving them too much credit because he silently removed every man he came across getting in, then found a spot to work out the logistics on getting to Romanoff herself.

ㅤRestrained to a chair, the man who was clearly the boss was monologuing and another was laying out tools. Classic, like working out of a stock script. He didn't like how Nat looked, but she'd endured worse than appearances suggested; he knew she could handle this. He waited until all eyes were on her, the apparent 'interrogator' behind the others and distracted with his accoutrements, and made his move.

ㅤAn arm shot out from a shadow, snaking across the man's mouth to silence him and drag him backwards by his head into Bucky's chest. He was dead before he even made contact, and Bucky pulled him backwards to push under some debris, easing back to test for another. Could he have exploded into the scene and killed them all before they knew what hit them? He figured the chances were greater than 90%, but just in case someone decided to get smart and take Nat out while she was detained, he played it quiet.

ㅤThat, and these assholes deserved to be toyed with, just a little.

#xlianovna #xlianovna || main .001 #you'll get a private tag once i think of one #for now you get this as promised #happy birthday #you hunt me like your last goodbye ☆ natasha romanoff || xlianovna #so he's a ghost story ☆ [v. solo missions]

23 notes · View notes

achubbydumpling · 2 months ago

Note

Okay hear me out also (definitely not cannon compliant but like ) imagine Bucky gaining a bunch of weight due to the serum and mostly due to kinky eating effects but what do you think would happen when Bucky gets too big for his arm. Do you think he’d just have to program it to keep shoveling food ? Or do you think he’d have to ask Steve all flustered to get him a bigger arm

oh-ho-ho do I have thoughts about this one, idk if you're still around, but if you are enjoy Bucky getting too big for his arm!

After gaining a good 90 lbs Bucky has gotten used to outgrowing clothes and with that next big gaining milestone coming up, of course, he's outgrowing another wardrobe.

As much as that usually turns him on, when he's spending another lazy weekend with Steve, when Bucky actually has to go out and get things done it can get quite annoying. He pushes his thumb into his waistband and tries to get any kind of relief from being practically cut in half. Of course, it doesn't work and that last bite of doughnut he pushes in his mouth as he enters the Avengers tower doesn't help either.

Even though he's been going to these monthly appointments pretty much since he moved back to the US with Steve nerves still got to him every time. Food helped -- with the anxiety at least.

"Good morning, Mr. Barnes," a disembodied voice greeted him.

As rude as he felt for not answering Bucky just couldn't get used to talking to thin air.

"Consider brushing the powdered sugar off your chest before heading up, Sir."

His double chin bunched up as he looked down and sure enough his chest moobs were speckled in white. The black shirt probably wasn't the best decision this morning, but it was the only one that still fit over Bucky's belly without constantly riding up. Bucky didn't even entertain the thought that half a dozen powdered doughnuts on his way here were a bad decision.

Though the elevator was high-tech, riding all the way up to the top floors still took a few seconds. Surrounded by mirrors Bucky couldn't help but look at himself. He was big. Noticeably chubby by now with an actual belly. The rest of his body seemed to finally be catching up too. Thicker thighs and arms. His eyes fell on his chest and Bucky winced slightly at just how form-fitting even his biggest shirt was by now.

Bruce hadn't commented on Bucky's weight gain beyond asking whether Bucky had noticed and if he wanted to do anything about it. Very neutral, very professional. Bucky had grabbed a meal big enough for four on the way home and jerked off afterwards. Maybe some wires had gotten mixed up after freezing and unfreezing his brain a few dozen times.

(Though if he was honest with himself Bucky had been fascinated by the way his body could change long before any Hydra goon had gotten their hands on it. He looked back fondly on that summer before his last big growth spurt where his body had driven up his appetite and pack on the pounds in just a few weeks.)

He pulled the shirt away from his chest, trying to stretch the fabric a bit more. Another pull at his waistband. Why did he choose jeans this morning? A scratch at his hips, then his shoulder. Probably more stretch marks growing there too.

"James," Bruce greeted him as soon as the elevator doors opened.

"How are you doing today?"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and smiled lightly. It always took a while for his vocal chords to warm up, up here.

Bruce narrated every step and routine examination and soon enough Bucky found his voice again.

"Right, last part for today. Would you mind taking off your shirt so I can take a look at your arm?"

Bucky obliged.

"Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Pain, discomfort, anything?" Bruce asked.

Bucky shook his head, then added: "it's been a bit itchy. The part where it turns into metal."

A moment passed in silence, then Bruce acknowledged what Bucky had said with a "hmm". Bucky could feel his heart rate increase.

Bruce's hand hovered over Bucky's left shoulder.

"May I?"

Bucky nodded. Bruce touched the seam of the prosthesis carefully, the sensation filtered in and out as he moved from flesh to metal to skin so scarred the nerve endings were gone. Some part felt raw to the touch, like a burn, but mostly it just felt a bit uncomfortable and itchy. Like the rest of his body right now.

Going through a growth spurt, Bucky thought slightly amused.

"What are you thinking?" Bucky finally broke the silence. Bruce hummed once more then straightened up.

"Can I ask: How much weight have you gained this month?" Bruce's eyes fell on Bucky's belly, then snapped back up to his face, "Or in total?"

Bucky couldn't help the embarrassment every time someone other than Steve brought up his weight. He could feel his cheeks heat up. Bucky cleared his throat.

"Ninety pounds."

Bruce nodded, his face schooled deliberately neutral.

"It's normal to gain some weight while adjusting to civilian life," Bruce reassured him.

Bucky could tell he was having a hard time finding the right words for the next sentence though.

"I wouldn't worry about it but it seems like your prosthesis isn't made to keep up with such… growth."

Bucky reacted with a strangled "uh-hu".

"Usually I would recommend getting fitted for a new socket, but as you know it's a bit more difficult in your case. I'd like to talk this over with Tony to see what we can do, if that's ok with you?"

Stark had brought up the idea of a redesign the first time Bucky had visited the Tower. Back then he'd still been unstable, unused to this new situation. Anyone prodding at his prosthesis had quickly ended in a panic attack and him fleeing the building.

Bucky could see Bruce's hesitance to even ask, but he'd gotten a lot more settled in recent years.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded his head, "ask Stark what he thinks. If he can do anything to, uh, make it fit better."

Outgrowing the arm, jesus, he'd really thought having to buy another whole wardrobe would be the worst/best thing about the big 1-0-0 milestone.

Bucky's hand wanders to his should and sure enough now he can feel it. The way the skin bulges around the metal seam of the prosthesis. How hadn't he noticed before?

In this position his shirt sleeve was also digging into his upper arm, not because of a bulging bicep but from all the fat he'd put on there. Faint white stretch marks snaked up from his arm pit, with a few new red ones in between.

The rest of the appointment passed quickly. Bucky grabbed lunch on the way home for Steve and him from a Mexican place, then decided to hit up a bakery too -- after all they had a new milestone to celebrate.

#asks #chubby Bucky #wot helped me try and figure out how much weight affects the fit of a prosthesis #and apparently even just a few kilos can change the fit #I'm using the excuse that it's a very advanced prosthesis 😅#for Bucky not to have noticed any difference while gaining that much weight

24 notes · View notes

whoisthispersonwow · 1 year ago

Text

Hello people of tumblr! :)

I am not used to using this app but I thought i would give it a shot as the fandom works featured here are straight up the best things i've found on the internet, and the community seems just AMAZING on all regards!!! So I thought, yk, that I would share my ideas for this AU fic that perhaps maybe I would write sometimes...... idk....

Actor Bucky x Model Buck

Set in the 90s, this AU follows this rough outline : despite the 90s being a time of counterculture for the youth, (grunge, alternative movies being pushed forward and towards larger audiences) and being out of the 80s and all it entails (glam rock and so on) there was this paradoxally reinforced idea of masculinity (leather jackets, men having to be "strong", etc.) and lattent ideas of homosexuality being a "bad, filthy thing" in some places, interlinked with the misinformations concerning the HIV epidemic (if you're gay, you'll get AIDS, you'll die in a few months, all this stuff), which causes the Bucks have to hide their relationship from the public in fear of retaliation and backlash.

Buck is a male model, in a decade in which supermodels are emerging, and put on a pedestal : it's a decent job for him, despite not being a Claudia Schiffer or a Kate Moss (as female models, especially in that decade, were getting paid way more than male models, and overall just represented couture houses more than men did.). People know his face, he's had a few campaigns, but it's not enough to make him one of the A-list celebrities, not that he minds. He's slimmer than what is the norm for male models, but compensates it with his face : it is his strength as much as his weakness concerning bookings. He is known by his peers as this wise and generally kind man, not overly flairy as people can sometimes be in their industry, and overall very discreet about his personal life. He is extremely professional, a master of his craft that knows exactly what is expected of him at any time.

Bucky, on the other hand, is an actor. Freshly discovered among the rest of a new generation of actors, he climbs steadily and surely his way to the top, and has people from all over the USA watching his career with interest. He acts in movies which in our timeline would feel like "The Matrix" ; "Trainspotting" ; "Fight Club", and all of those sorts of very "mainstream yet still posessing their bit a flair" movies. He's extending his choices and taking more risks, ones that could perhaps lead him to great rewards (not that he is especially looking for it : Bucky would be content to act in a short movie by a middle schooler if it was done with love and passion.) Charming, bubbly, he is loved by many of teenage girls (and others, ofc :p). Everyone has a story about Bucky, be it good or bad. "Oh yeah, he bought me a car when mine broke down" says a make-up artist on a set. "He got so drunk he forgot I was here and punched me square in the face when i got up to pee" says his friend Curt Biddick.

(i made an ugly ass moodboard for the vibes)

-> now i'm gonna dump random infos for no particular reasons

TW : mentions of drugs, alcohol, homophobic cliches.

-They met at a party/gala of some sort for a brand, for which Buck modeled and Bucky was ambassador : it didn't click right away, but closely enough for it to feel like fate played a part in it.

-Buck is kind of excluded during parties as he's fully sober, whether it's from drugs or alcohol : a rarity, in the modeling world, and often not a welcome one.

-Bucky on the other hand, is a bit too much of a party monster : he drinks a lot, perhaps snorts a little cocaine in the bathroom, takes a little speed... Which GREATLY concerns Buck.

-Bucky is as cocky in his confidence and his career as he fears (and represses A LOT) the possibility of everything tumbling down and just going back to being nobody (THIS MAN NEEDS TO BE LOVED BY EVERYONE)

-He's terrified that fame will change him, that he will become a parody version of himself, that people will only know and like the version of himself he presents them and nothing else, not seeing his worth as a person, as an individual of flesh and feelings.

-Between the two of them, he's the one who desperately wants to tell the general audience about their relationship, not caring about the consequences, because in his eyes, love is love, and there sure as hell ain't nothing wrong with loving Gale Cleven, and people should know that he loves him, that they love each other, that they're a pair, that life only ever feels complete when they stand side by side, hanging in each other's orbits. They sometimes argue over this.

-Buck, on the other hand, wishes for their relationship to stay a secret, as he fears if it was to be known, it would taint Bucky's image, this very manly, confident and suave man, mingle it with dumb cliches (in a gay couple one is a "Folle" and the other has to be effeminate, because they're like GIRLS yk) and that it would basically ruin his career, tarnish his talent and hard work, get him blacklisted from most studios/directors and only perhaps offered type-casted roles in homophobic movies written by straight men. Buck could not stand seeing the love of his life being disgraced in the public's eyes, just because of some dumbass cliches, because of his love for him.

-Marjorie (Marge) covers for Buck. She's his front : They are seen dining together and huddling on benches by paparazzis, giggling and talking as they walk in the street, and that's enough. Their story makes people dream, these two young people who grew up together and fell in love, still a couple until this day, still loving each other as much as they did on the first day... They are a lavender couple (when both member of a relationship are queer, and use their couple to cover any suspicions) which helps making Buck and Bucky seem like just buddies. Marjorie is most likely not famous, or if so, she'd be more of a writer than anything else.

-Bucky is EXTREMELY jealous and FUMES whenever he cannot kiss Buck in public, touch him, do his little Bucky things, make Buck feel his. Despite that, he's sort of reckless and allows himself gestures that would not fly were the two men not viewed as pinacle of masculinity and a great example of brotherly love. Buck can't even bring himself to ressent him for it, and does not hold it against him : he too wishes they could hold hands on red carpets.

-Bucky is basically a disaster waiting to happen at some point, a pressure cooker dangerously whistling : he bottles everything he feels, just grits his teeth and says he's fine when dark times arise, drowns himself in alcohol and wishes to forget about his worries, thinks about simpler times when he had none at all. Gale stays by his side, no matter what, no matter his terrifying relationship with alcohol and the memories of his father.

-They live together, despite the risks : Buck couldn't bear having to say no to Bucky when he bought their appartment with a huge check from the royalties he earned over his first blockbuster. It is approprietly cozy : most of the decorum is Buck's doing, but Bucky's things still find their ways in there ; baseball posters, pictures, awards and silly little drawings on stick-it notes... It feels like home, to both of them.

-They probably have bought some sort of ranch or farm, somewhere, to run away from the city when things get crazy : they bask reverently in the fact that there, nothing they do or say matters, watching the sunsets on their patios, enjoying the melody of nature without any civilization.

That's pretty much it for now, I'll most likely add things later! :D I'm begging you to excuse any mistake I made, i'm just a poor French person trying her best. Don't hesitate to tell me how you feel and stuff, I am so nervous to make this post you can't imagine lmaoo

To end things, I guess I'll just post an extract of a wip, a written transcription of a fake interview Bucky probably had on some talk show!!! :]

#clegan #buck x bucky #bucky x buck #gale cleven #john bucky egan #alternate universe #idk how to tag sorry #mota

97 notes · View notes

april-ape · 3 months ago

Text

Captain America: Brave New World sucked ass.

First of all, Carl Lumbly was the absolute best choice for the role of Isaiah Bradley. The character has a deep history of African-American history. People at first found it hilariously ironic to put a black man in Captain America’s red, white, and blue suit. Once the backstory of Bradley was developed, they soon realized the significance. A large portion of his backstory was derived from the Tuskegee Syphilis Study, an event where the American government and health organizations took black men with and without syphilis and promised them free healthcare if they allowed to be observed while on experimental medication. The CDC and PHS did not inform most of these men of their diagnoses, and even gave them placebos and drugs they knew wouldn’t work, resulting in over 100 deaths.

Similarly, in an effort to recreate the Super Soldier serum that turned Steve Rogers into the super soldier he is, the government experimented on black men in fatal tests to perfect it. Isaiah Bradley was one of these men. He was also heavily based on Muhammad Ali, something that Axel Alonso, former editor in chief of Marvel Comics, pushed for.

So why was Isaiah Bradley played by Carl Lumbly, and why was this such a good choice? Lumbly has a variety of very notable roles spanning back to the 80s. He is a black man born in Minnesota to Jamaican immigrant parents, and he was a journalist before ever acting in anything. He portrayed Theseus in The Gospel at Colonus, an African-American depiction of Oedipus at Colonus. In 1987, he played the role of Bobby Seale, the co-founder of the Black Panther Party, in the movie Conspiracy: The Trial of the Chicago 8.

Most notable was his role as Dr. Miles Hawkins in the show, M.A.N.T.I.S., in the mid to late 90s. The character is shot by the police during a protest, causing him to be paralyzed, and this leads to him uncovering a conspiracy against the black community. The character uses his vast resources, not unlike the superhero Batman, to get justice for himself and others.

This show also made him the first black superhero on television. After the show aired and they stopped filming, throughout the years he has been involved heavily in the superhero franchises. From voice acting in Batman Beyond, Justice League, and Justice League Unlimited, to playing the father of Martian Manhunter in CW’s Supergirl.

This all leads to him getting the role as Isaiah Bradley in Marvel's The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Truly, there is no one that I would’ve preferred to play this role. He has the experience, the skill, and the know-how to get it done. In the aforementioned show, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, his role added to the story beautifully, if heartbreakingly. However, I believe he was done a great injustice by the writing of Marvel’s Captain America: Brave New World.

The next points that I want to talk about are the outrageous product placements, the American Propaganda, and the corny ass writing.

First of all, why in the hell is the GMC logo taking up half the screen during an entire fight scene? That, combined with the corny dialogue that sounds like it was written by ChatGPT, made me think that my movie theatre was playing an ad in the middle of the movie. Seriously, I turned to people next to me to see if they were confused too. It is practically the same film style and dialogue from the Tide commercial that features this movie. Tide Commercial 2025 Captain America: Brave New World: Powerful Clean in Any Universe Ad Review

Then the Pelotan stationary bike, or whatever it’s called, had more screen time than Bucky did I swear. Why am I watching the president work out for ten minutes in his private jet, and I’m supposed to care about his sob story? Please, just shoot me, seriously.

Next, the corny writing. Marvel has been a victim of this forever, but I have never cringed so badly at it as much as I have for this one. “You want me?! Come and get me!” It was like they asked AI to write them a dialogue between a hero and a villain, and then they copied and pasted it into the script and called it a day. Everytime a line like this happened, me and my partner would turn to each other slowly and then sink lower into our seats, embarrassed to even be seen in the theatre.

I don’t even want to write about my full thoughts on the crazy propaganda in this movie because it will lead to a very long rant and lots of negativity that I don’t want associated with my blog. So here is a meme that has all that I want to say:

#movie review #captain america #sam wilson #red hulk #anthony mackie #marvel #superhero #mcu #marvel movies #marvel comics #this blog says free palestine

21 notes · View notes

mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty As A Picture - Chapter 4

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one of her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Chapter Summary: The team try to piece together everything together and Steve needs answers.

Chapter Warning: Sad Steve, sad Bucky, talk of death mental illness, electric shock treatment, and attempted sexual violence (not in detail).

The ringing of an incoming call, allowed Nat a moment’s reprieve.

“It’s Clint, I made him aware. Thought he should be part of this. He is part of our family after all.” Tony spoke, looking at Steve for permission to connect the call. Steve nodded and Tony answered tapping his phone to share the projection of Clint and Laura, the latter holding baby Nathaniel.

“Please tell me this is some weird prank.” Clint went first.

“You think we’d joke about something like this?” Steve snapped.

“No, of course not.” Laura replied, elbowing Clint, “but I think I speak for both of us when I say, what the fuck you guys.”

A little voice in the background shouted ‘language’ but didn’t get the usual laughter.

“Romanoff I don’t want to have to ask you again. Start talking.”

“I met her when she worked for British Intelligence. Clint introduced us.”

“So you knew her first?” Sam asked, directly his question at Clint on the screen.

“I did. She was an analyst initially, one of the best, if not the best. Still is.”

“So, she’s British?” Asked Rhodey.

“She is.” Answered Nat.

“Was she then?” Rhodey asked Steve and he nodded his reply.

“Man, what type of dumb question is that? You can’t change nationalities.” Sam asked.

“Actually Samuel, you can, not your birth place of course but when residing….”

“Vis not now.” Wanda said.

Pepper decided at this moment to take a handle of things as she watched Steve’s annoyance grow.

“Why don’t we go one at a time? Clint, so you met her first?”

“Yeah, initially just over comms, as part of the partnership between the different agencies but it was clear early on how good she was. The last mission Laura did, we, well we found out on the mission that Laura was pregnant. We were chasing some arms dealer in Greece that had decided to start manufacturing chemicals to control people. Masses of people. We ran into some trouble. The extraction team were too far out and we were in pretty deep. I thought ‘this is it’, I’d taken my soulmate and my unborn child into a death trap, and then the sprinklers came on, and some 90s boy band starts coming out the speakers of the warehouse. It gave us a hint of time, just seconds to get the upper hand. We stole one of the ingredients so they couldn’t manufacture it and ran. A mile down the road there’s a pay phone ringing. It’s her. Telling us the S.H.I.E.L.D analysts were ‘shockingly shit’ and she’d dialled in and taken over. She directed us to a drain, told us the route to take. When we came up at the exit point, the SAS was there to extract us.”

“Holy shit. I don’t think I know anyone who can just call up the SAS like that, not even their own, not even us.” Sam added.

“She can, she’s got them wrapped around her finger I swear.” Clint said.

“Well, that’ll be guilt.” Nat muttered.

“What did you say?” Sam asked.

“She said something about guilt.” Bucky said, suddenly speaking up.

“Nat it’s not your place to tell them.” Clint stated firmly.

“Tell us what Romanoff?” Pushed Steve.

Pepper decided to refocus the conversation again.

“Laura, have you met her?”

“I have. She’s godmother to our children. Same as Natasha. She’s our soul sister.”

Steve huffed and leaned back in his chair.

“Nat?” Pushed Pepper.

“I met her over comms the same as they did to start with, Clint introduced us over a video call and then Fury sent me to recruit her.”

“For the Avengers?” Asked Steve.

“Not right away. S.H.I.E.L.D, then the Avengers. First as an analyst, then an agent.”

“I’m taking her lack of presence means she politely declined?” Quipped Tony.

“Not exactly.” Looking around at everyone’s confused faces Nat continued “it wasn’t exactly polite, she told me to fuck off.”

There was a rumble of light laughter.

“Hang on, hang on, she knew who you were?” Rhodey asked trying not to laugh, “she knew you were Natasha Romanoff, former assassin, Black Widow, and the British analyst, she told you to fuck off?”

“Yes Rhodey, she told me to fuck off.”

More amusement passed through the group. Then Laura’s voice.

“Tell them exactly what she said.”

Nat sighed.

“Fine. She said ‘I already told Fury and Barton no, and now I’m going to tell you Romanoff, no, a big fat fucking no, now get your Russian, double agent ass off my desk and fuck right off.’ She also had me escorted out of the building and had 001 revoke my access given to me under the partnership.”

"I like her already."

"Hush Tony."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. It definitely sounded like their girl but it also didn’t explain their soulmate being there now.

Bucky was next to speak. His voice still sounding a little broken.

“Was she, erm, like us? Is she like us? Was she frozen?”

“Buck we know she wasn’t, Peggy identified her.” he replied, tapping the file.

“What is this? May I look at this?” Asked Tony.

Steve nodded.

“Do you remember the liaison meetings around the time of the First Accords? A member of each agency was there?” The team nodded. “Well after Peggy’s estate was settled, one the British guys pushed that into my hand and left. It’s all about her, her background info, her career and what happened after us.”

“What happened?” Vision asked.

“Oh god.” Peppers voice interrupted. “Sorry I just.”

She pointed down and Steve could see she was reading the medical papers from when their soulmate was sectioned.

“She was institutionalised. Although the British call it sectioned. She was really insistent that we were both still alive. Kicked up quite a fuss. They had her sedated and shipped back home and put in a mental hospital.”

“They shouldn’t have done that Steve, they should have sent her to Ma like it said in our papers.” Bucky snapped tearfully.

“I know Buck. That’s why Peggy did what she did.”

“What did Agent Carter do exactly?” Asked Vision.

“She tried to get a guardianship.” Tony answered looking at the papers. “Wait, Dad’s name is here.”

“They both did. Your Dad and Peggy, but it was too late. She’d passed before.”

“Because of what they did to her?” Pepper asked.

“What do you mean? What they did to her?” Asked Bruce, finally breaking his silence. Tony glanced up at Steve.

“Can he see this?”

Steve clenched his jaw.

“It might help, that’s all, give us an idea of if she could have survived that.”

“She didn’t but fine.” Steve said through gritted teeth.

The file was passed down to Bruce, whose brow furrowed the moment he opened it.

“Jesus Christ.”

The room stayed silent as Bruce read through the file.

“I’m sorry Steve, Bucky, electric shock treatment of that amount, along with what they gave her, and the Broken Heart Syndrome. It’s unlikely she could have survived that.”

“She didn’t. The next piece of paper is signed by Peggy and Howard. Peggy identified her and registered her death. Howard paid for her funeral.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony asked, disappointed in his tone.

“I was going to and then everything else happened. I was going to tell you and ask if you’d help me find the grave.”

“But there isn’t one right? I looked, there was nothing and that’s because she’s alive?” Asked Sam. Steve shook his head.

“May I add something Captain Rogers?” Asked Vision “I believe it may help the others understanding.”

Steve frowned but nodded.

“When Agents and Analyst, anyone above a a certain category joins an intelligence agency they under go testing and that now includes DNA and genetics, along with regular retesting. It would have raised concerns had she have been the age of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes and her identity would have been revealed or at least have led her to S.H.I.E.L.D for investigation not recruitment.”

Tony and Bruce both nodded in agreement.

“Captain Rogers what was the purpose of light implications that Peggy was your soulmate?”

Steve went to speak but was interrupted by Bucky.

“I hated that by the way and so did she.”

“I know Buck but we had to keep her safe.” Steve paused for a moment before continuing, “I found her right before I went looking for Buck. Peggy said we needed two things, a plane and route in. Howard got the plane and our soulmate was the map girl. I felt it the moment I saw her. My luck never was the best and then I find her and it’s in a war zone, I’m about to go on a suicide mission to find my best friend. Our eyes met and I was falling over my feet like the little kid in Brooklyn.”

“He actually did fall over his own damn feet. Our girl had to help him up off the floor.”

The team laughed softly.

“It’s true, that gave your Dad and Peg some laughs.” He said to Tony.

“Tell them the rest.” Bucky smirked.

“I kissed her, practically threw myself at her and kissed her. She was not amused, she was pretty pissed.”

“What was it she said ‘you yanks are all the bloody same’.”

Steve smiled, “Something like that, she pushed me off, told me off and shoved a pair of maps into my hands. Buck met her when he came back to base.”

“I didn’t throw myself at her, as hard as it was not to, and at least brought her a drink first.”

Steve smiled again as Bucky shared his memory before starting again.

“It’s not documented anywhere but when we were out on a mission there was an attack back at the base, a small group of energy agents had snuck in on a delivery truck. One of them went into what we called the War Room, trying to see the plans. Well, that’s what Phillips' first thought. Our girl was in there with another agent who was shot and killed. She got into a scuffle with the enemy agent and disarmed him but he didn’t stop and he tried to hurt her, in the worst way possible. Buck had slipped a pocket knife into her stocking before we left and she used it. Peggy burst in and finished the job. When they searched his body, there was a photo, albeit a bad one but a photo and a description of her. They hadn’t just come to see our plans, they’d come for her.”

“That’s why everything was deleted?” Nat stated, “Why I couldn't find anything, pictures, film, newsreels, all of it?”

Steve nodded. “Peggy pointed out she was safer with us than back home, we had no idea who knew about her. Every single one of those agents had a damn picture of her.”

“Peg made some calls, she knew someone at the BBC, Pathe News, some had lost soulmates in the war, so they clipped every image of her out.” Bucky added.

“So the photograph in your compass? Of Agent Carter? It was a diversion tactic?” Asked Vision.

Steve nodded, smile now gone. Sam still confused asked questions.

“OK, I need to piece this together out loud for a second and you know I’ve got your backs right? But for the non science bros, or super intelligent creations, no offence”

Replies of “non taken” echoed round the room.

“You said Peggy identified her, after she’d passed, Howard paid for the funeral, so they hid her really damn well for seventy years or this ain’t your girl. Like Vis said someone would have flagged her age.”

“It’s her!” Bucky snapped.

“Buck.”

“I’m trying to be the voice of reason here, make sense of it all. Are you sure that’s her?” Sam asked pointing at the pictures Buck still held. “You said yourself, she was deleted from everything, you don’t have a point of reference, a photo. You’ve been through some shit, you’ve been froze. Also, there's no point of reference for any of us either, with everything gone, we've all tried to look. I'm just saying you’ve been through a lot. Maybe the memory is blurred.”

It was at this point Bucky lost it.

“I remember everything!” He cried out “I remember her, I remember my Ma, my sisters, everything, all the god damn awful fucking things I’ve done, that they made me do. Shuri pieced it altogether and the good things, the good memories, her, the memory of her is what gets me through, when I can’t do it, when I can barely breathe.”

“Buck take a breath.”

“Just show them Steve, they’re looking at me like I’m damn crazy, about to ship me back to Wakanda! Show them.”

Steve rose from his seat and pulled out his compass. A compass that had been seen on newsreels, in newspapers and in history books. He slowly opened it and carefully removed the picture of Peggy. Hidden behind the S.H.I.E.L.D founder was their soulmate.

Faded and a little rough round the ages but the others could now see it clearly for themselves as Steve set the compass down displaying the photograph. Bucky reluctantly placed those from Wanda beside it.

It was the same person. You. Soul sister to the Bartons, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner and most recently, Wanda Maximoff, were in both pictures.

And you were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes soulmate and you were alive.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

#steve rogers x reader #avengers au #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #steve x reader x bucky #soulmate au #avengers soulmate au #steve rogers x reader x bucky

126 notes · View notes

asphalt-cocktail · 1 year ago

Text

Lead us to Temptation- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Precious Lord Take my Hand

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

A/N: As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are immensely appreciated. There will be no tag list because I am far too lazy to do that, but feel free to turn on notifications for me or bookmark it on AO3 where it will also be posted per usual.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Nicknames, religious themes, suggestive language, profanity, pining, mentions of criminal activity, period typical misogyny, physical fighting, mentions of alcohol and gambling

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist

Read me on AO3

There were a handful of things you could always count on happening in Eden Ridge: the saloon having a free lunch every Thursday with the purchase of a drink, church every Sunday, the coal miners leaving the mines at 7PM sharp, and that springtime would bring a sloppy muddy mess. When your family set out westward you stopped about halfway to Oregon and found your home in the town of Eden Ridge, named after the Eden Ridge Mountains which served as the beating heart for the small but quickly growing town.

The hills were full of coal and iron which your father proudly exploited along with the good hard working people of Eden. He controlled the mineral exports and the main work force in town. The hills acted as a hungry maw, devouring the hopes, dreams, and even bodies of the coal miners that dug down to the depths of hell just to keep your father’s pockets fat. It was the only town where the sunset was painted with a harrowing combination of orange and gray and where the air was so heavy with coal dust you could taste it.

Once your older brother was of age he quickly found a wife and married off, having two kids in the blink of an eye. It was common knowledge that your brother was the heir to the Eden Coal & Iron company, but only after he did his time laboring in the bowels of the Earth

The coal mines weren’t the place for a lady, so you didn't know much beyond the fact that your father was the owner and employed 90% of the town. You liked it that way, it kept you cleaner than your brother. You saw how filthy he was when he came back from a long day under the mountain, skin so blackened by coal and filth his eyes and teeth seemed to glow even though the hills stole the light away from them. But your father wasn't going to let your brother become some pencil pushing fancy boy if he could help it. If your daddy had to do his time in the mines, so did anyone who wanted to take over his business. It garnered respect from the laborers and it helped your brother get a glimpse of the bigger picture when it came to a business like this.

Your brother’s future was clear as crystal, but yours was always a frequent topic of discussion. Who were you going to marry being the number one. Since you were the ripe age of 25 your mother spent most of her time about town talking with the other wives and figuring out who the most eligible bachelor was. She told you not to worry, because she had a list made that you could take your pick from. You’d long since thrown away your dreams of traveling and leaving Eden Ridge, those were the dreams of a little girl, and mama always said dreaming was unholy. God gave you what you needed, nothing more, nothing less. So, you best be grateful for it. The older you grew, the more you questioned that statement. There was no way that your father needed to control the coal and iron exports in town.

Your boots slapped against the wet, gray, mud as you walked through the town. You were grateful that your mother hemmed your skirt a couple of inches shorter than normal to try and help keep your dress clean and prevent it from dragging in the wet earth.

Outside of the saloon a large group of people gathered right where you needed to walk through. You frowned, the closer you got the more you could tell how rowdy the crowd was and the closer you got the easier it became to see the two men fighting in the street.

“You lying little snake.” One said swinging and punching the dark haired man in the jaw.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Of course he was the one getting his face rocked in the middle of the muddy street. You often wondered if he was the devil incarnate, a handsome sweet talking man brought up from the depths of hell to tempt you into sinning. It took all your strength not to give in and see what else his mouth could do if you just simply let him. For the last two months he’d taken every approach in the book to get you to go out to dinner with him and each time you shut him down.

Hard.

He was relentless though, stubborn, insisted that he’d treat you good if you just let him and by God you knew he would. He’d been in town for a short but annoying two months and seemed to have quite the reputation with the ladies. If you had to hear one more woman giggle and go “Hi Bucky.” while wiggling her fingers you were going to be the next one kicking Bucky’s ass in the street God help you.

Bucky staggered, shaking his head, trying to unscramble his brains, his cheek was red and already beginning to swell from the blow “I’m a lot of things but I ain’t no damn snake.” He hissed back at the bald man, Tomas.

“One of your little buddies was telling you what my cards were, I just know it.” Tomas yelled, tackling Bucky to the ground. The worst part was that one of them probably was helping Bucky cheat at cards. Anyone with a pair of brain cells knew he famously cheated at all card games, but Tomas famously lacked brain cells.

They struggled for a moment on the ground before Bucky got leverage, flipping the two over and sitting on top of the other man’s chest, “I told you I’m not a cheat.” He said, punching Tomas in the face, emphasizing each of his words as he spoke.

Someone pushed through the crowd, Steve, one of his buddies, and grabbed him, “That’s enough Buck.” He spoke harshly, pulling his muddy friend off the unconscious Tomas, “Can we please go into town and not get arrested for once?” The blond grabbed Bucky by the back of his soiled light red button down similar to how a mother cat would carry a kitten by its scruff and shoved him down to walk towards their horses.

You looked in the muck and saw a worn out, sun beaten hat discarded. You picked it up and looked over at the roughneck then back to the hat

“Excuse me!” You call after the pair, “Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky turned, immediately recognizing your voice and grinned. It was truly blasphemous how handsome he looked despite the bruised cheek, cuts and dried blood, and black eye starting to form. The beat up look seemed to suit someone like him. “You know, we have got to stop meeting like this sugar.”

“I think you need to stop fist fighting before the sun has barely set.” You couldn't help but return the smile, it was contagious like the plague.

Gingerly, he took the hat from you and brushed some of the mud from his hat before putting it on and wiping his hands clean on his soiled jeans, “I was fighting for my honor!” He completely ignored Steve, following you instead as you began to walk off.

You scoffed, “Honor, sure…” you mumbled, “was someone telling you what the cards were?”

Bucky grinned proudly, “Of course, Sam always helps me when we play cards.”

“There is a special circle in hell for liars and cheaters, Mr. Barnes.”

“Sweetheart I’ve done much worse than lie and cheat, I think I’ll be forgiven for this one.” He statement sounded dismissive and you didn't doubt that wasn't true for a second. There was something mysterious about Bucky Barnes and the crew he ran with. You never could quite figure out what he did for work or what his source of income was, but you figured it was A: impolite to ask and B: not something you wanted to have any part of. “When are you going to let me take you to dinner?” Bucky almost whined, grabbing your hand and stopping you.

You turned, yanking your hand out of his grasp “When I’m dead.”

Bucky groaned in annoyance, “I’d treat you so good sweetheart, better than any of these other guys around town.” He reached out for your hand again. This was a talk the two of you had at least twice a week for the last two months, three times if you were extra unlucky.

“I can’t.” Bucky Barnes was the type of man fathers warned their daughters about, and boy did your father have a rather strong warning when it came to Mr. Barnes. “My Daddy warned me to stay away from men like you. A roughneck like you brings nothing but trouble to a good girl’s life.”

“Sweetheart, your daddy has no idea the type of man I am, trust me.” He stepped in front of you, stopping you from walking, “Just humor me and let me take you to dinner, no funny business, promise.” He put his hands on your hips, “How’s about tomorrow, I take you to dinner in the next town over. That way you don’t need to worry about any prying eyes from these nosey folks.”

Bucky was serving your words to you on a supper plate and gave you a fork to eat them. You told yourself, just this once, and maybe that would get him off your back. Maybe he would go bother some other poor girl. But the thought of that kind of pissed you off, you didn't need to look deep down to know that you enjoyed the little game the two of you played. “No funny business?” All you needed was one little taste, nothing more.

“No funny business.” Bucky echoed you, nodding his head.

It didn't sound so bad going and grabbing dinner in the next town over. Thunder Creek was a lovely area, great food, great music, no one from Eden Ridge to run and tell your family you were out with the local drifter, “How about you ask me once your face doesn’t look such a mess.”

Bucky beamed at you, “Deal.”

The next time you saw Bucky, almost a full week had passed. His face had healed nicely; the big purple bruise under his eye was now a yellowish color, and the cut along his nose and cheek had scabbed over and shrank. “Have you thought about my offer, dear?” He asked, leaning on the hitching post as you readied your horse. He looked like a stray dog seated in front of a plate of steak, hungry and ready to devour like Saturn himself.

It distracted you, caught you off guard even, “What? About dinner?” You licked your lips nervously and couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze again “Yes, I’m free tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you at the train station at 3 and we can ride over”

He looked victorious, like he’d won a marathon, like he’d just been told God had saved him a spot in heaven, “3 o’clock at the train station.” He repeated back to let you know he heard and he would be there.

You weren’t shocked to see Bucky already waiting on a bench at the train depot at 3pm sharp just like you’d asked. What shocked you was the fact that you’d managed to travel the two hours to the next town over and have a nice sit down meal with him, all without him making a single pass at you. He made small talk, asking you about your horse and how long you had him for, asking you your favorite books, your life before moving out here, your fathers mining company. He picked your brain and devoured every piece of information you gave him, listening actively and intently.

You learned a lot about him as well. Bucky was 10 years older than you and hailed from New York, which explained his odd hybrid accent. He fought in the civil war as a boy some 20 years ago for the union which was where he met Steve, John, and Sam then they managed to pick up Peter along the way. He called him and his troupe ‘traveling workers’, they went from town to town doing odd jobs and when those ran out or they overstayed their welcome they left, moving on to the next town.

What he didn’t tell you was that he was a wanted man in 3 states, his traveling work consisted of robbing banks and trains, rustling cattle, and stealing horses, with a small dash of bounty hunting, and a big dash of murder. Sure there was some good honest work sprinkled in there to help keep his conscience clean but it was mostly crime.

He’d originally come to town to rob the local bank, since Eden Ridge was on the up and up, which meant lots of people came here with lots of money to start a new life and those rich assholes needed somewhere to store it all. His plan was to steal most of the money and use it to finance his next run to the next town and help pay off some of the minor bounties tied to his boys’ heads, but you were a bit of a distraction from his original plan

It almost made him not want to go through with it.

Almost.

Bucky liked you, he liked your soft curves, how you somehow managed to never have a speck of mud on your dress, he liked how sassy you got with him, like when you told him you hoped his horse would drop dead after he flicked mud in your face, and he liked the pretty white lace prayer veil you wore to church every Sunday. He wanted to marry you, come home to you wearing a little apron cooking dinner with a child on your hip. With HIS child on your hip. God the thought of making you his wife drove him near feral.

There was an added bonus to how pissed off it would make your no good crook of a father that made Bucky want to do it even more.

But, since a man was only as good as his word, he stayed true to his no funny business promise and only took you to dinner. You hated that he was a perfect gentleman and actually made you feel nice and cared for. You had no doubt that this was how he was able to get the other girls in town wrapped around his finger.

“You gonna let me walk you to church on Sunday too?” Bucky asked, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. He knew all the right things to say to you much to your chagrin.

You chewed your lip nervously, your father would not like it if he saw Bucky walking you to church and you knew that to be truer than the word of God itself. But, He had been such a perfect gentleman at your little dinner date, “Fine. But you can’t sit with us for the mass, my parents don’t like you.” You didn’t care if what you said hurt his feelings, it was true and you wanted to be kind enough to spare him the judgemental gaze of your father while Father Liska spoke the word of God, “And you have to sit through the mass and walk me home after.”

“Ok, deal.” Bucky grinned, a win was a win after all.

Bucky was more nervous about stepping foot into a church than he was to walk you there. Women he could handle, religion… well not so much. He half expected to burst into flames the moment he stepped foot into the holy threshold. He swapped out the filth covered denim for his best set of trousers and wore his nicest button up, just for you.

You didn’t have to worry about the prying eyes of your family when he came to your home to pick you up for your short little walk. Bucky greeted you at the door, you had to admit he cleaned up nicely, “You look nice, sugar.” Bucky reached up and and touched the scalloped edge of your mantilla, rubbing the delicate lace between his rough fingers.

You swatted his hand away, “Don’t touch that.” You hissed and adjusted the head covering.

Bucky reached out his hand for you to hold, begrudgingly, you took it, “Are we going to get dinner again sweets?” He tried to act coy by not looking at you, but you knew. He didn’t spend two months practically begging at your feet for dinner only to maybe want a second one.

You gave him an inch and he was going to take a mile. Maybe even two miles if he was feeling extra bold.

Bucky held the large wooden doors of the church open for you. He was flooded with the overwhelming scent of frankincense as he entered the church. It has been years since he’d set place in a place of worship. Maybe communing with god would be good for him. You looked uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of people kneeling, your presence disrupting their pre service prayers.

You dipped your fingers into the holy water and crossed yourself, holding your head high. Oh, they were going to have a lot to talk about at their weekly bible studies. You, showing up with a man to church? Well that was going to be the talk of the congregation, hell, it was going to be the talk of the town!

Bucky gave your hand a comforting squeeze before he dropped it, suddenly feeling the watchful eye of the Lord upon him. He gave you a polite nod and you almost wished you didn't tell him to sit elsewhere because now you had to walk down the aisle to the front of the room while everyone stared.

Your mother looked at you and you chose to ignore her until she leaned over and tugged at the sleeve of your dress, “What is all that about?” She said and nodded back towards Bucky.

He looked uncomfortable, like a bull in a china shop, sitting stiffly next to the Barton family. If he managed to sit through Sunday mass it would definitely get him bonus points and another dinner, “Nothing Mother.” You knew you were going to have to answer her poking and prodding after the service.

Father Liska finished the sermon and it took all your strength to not book it out of the church. You waited, ambushed by your mother who wanted to play twenty questions about Bucky. The number one being: do you think you’ll marry him? She loved to emphasize that you were a bit too bold and men didn’t like it when you told them to drop dead or that you’d rather walk across hot coals than meet with them. She would probably die early of a broken heart if you became a spinster.

“Please mother, we’ve only gotten dinner once and today I let him walk me to church. It’s nothing serious.” You hissed and hushed her once you saw Bucky walking over.

“Everything is serious when it comes to courting, dear.” Your mother reminded you. Marrying you off was serious business and she in some ways was your manager. “Mr. Barnes.” Your mother greeted him, almost breathlessly and offered her hand to him, “It's such a pleasure to meet you, thank you so much for accompanying our daughter to mass today.”

Bucky bent, kissing your mothers knuckles, you rolled your eyes at the display of chivalry, “It was truly my pleasure ma’am.” Of course mothers loved Bucky Barnes, why wouldn’t they? He was the type of man mothers loved and the type of man fathers warned their daughters about.

“I can’t believe you made him sit all the way in the back,” your mother chastised you, blushing after Bucky kissed her hand, “ Mr. Barnes dear, near Sunday please sit with us, we’ve got the best spot in the congregation.”

“Well Daddy doesn’t like him.” You said frowning, “What if Bucky doesn’t want to come to mass next Sunday?”

“Oh nonsense, he’ll be here next Sunday,” Your mother answered for him, “He loved the sermon today, didn’t you, dear?”

Bucky flashed another pleasant grin at your mother, “Of course, I loved hearing, uh, Father.... Father...”

“Liska” You filled in the gap for him knowing he never set foot into the Church of St. Michael the Archangel for the entirety of his two months here.

“Right, Father Liska, I thought it was incredibly moving.” You said a silent prayer for God to smite him down.

“Why don’t you come by the house for lunch.” Your mother urged him.

You shot Bucky a glare, “Oh I don’t think I should.” He said after glancing at you, if looks could kill Bucky would be 6 ft under.

“Bucky can stop by when he picks me up for dinner later in the week. Let’s not bore the poor man any longer.” You hooked your arm in his and pulled him towards the door, “Goodbye mother.” You said sharply.

Bucky patted your hand with his own, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You huffed, “I am most certainly not jealous.” You took your arm back and crossed them over your chest. You were jealous. Jealous and annoyed mainly with your mother.

“Don’t worry sugar there’s plenty of me to go around.” He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Chapter 2- Good Old Fashioned Catholic Guilt

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #marvel cinimatic universe #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #LUT #marvel x reader #sebastian stan characters

72 notes · View notes

buckysgirl27 · 4 months ago

Text

Remember Me

Part 4

Summary: After years of being separated from your love, James (Bucky) Buchanan Barnes, you finally find him again. But he’s different. Too different. Not only does he forget himself but you and Steve as well. Can he get his memories back?

‼️Trigger Warnings will be noted if needed at the beginning of chapter.‼️

Masterlist

“Ya know what? Fine. Sit here and wallow in your pain and his bloodied tattered clothes and books of faded memories. It’s not going to help bring him back!”

And with those last stinging words Steve left. Making sure to slam the door behind him like the dramatic ass he is.

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

You knew Steve made a point about the wallowing. It did no one any good and definitely didn’t help bring Bucky back.

You were convinced nothing would though.

Steve had been enough to break through last time. But if his trigger words and been removed and HYDRA was still able to use Bucky against his will…you don’t know what would get him back.

That’s where most of your pain was.

Having gone through the five stages of grief in two weeks while no one else in the compound had even processed anything.

You’d processed. Not healthily, but you had.

You made plans to get him back. They sounded stupid to you though so you scrapped them all. Maybe if you swallowed your pride Steve would help you form a better plan. To be honest anything was better than whatever crap you had come up with. You were too stubborn however to even start thinking about asking for his help though.

You had been sleeping in Bucky’s t-shirts. His room was kept just down the hall from yours when he stayed at the Avenger’s compound before he went to Wakanda.

Eventually you just started sleeping in his room. It was more convenient considering you spent 90 percent of your day in there anyway.

That’s about when Steve thought you were a lunatic and once again tried to intervene.

“This isn’t healthy. What you’re doing. Living in his room, sleeping in his shirts. He wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He’s not dead Steve.”

Steve leveled you with a glare.

“Then stop acting like he is. Get your shit together and do something about it.”

Like last time he was there you knew he was right. Even when you wanted so badly for him to be wrong, he usually wasn’t.

You took a deep breath.

“I assume you’ve already started looking. When’s the mission?”

Steve looked surprised. He didn’t actually think you’d get up and do anything. But you would. For Bucky you would burn down the world and then build it back up if he asked.

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

2 Weeks Later

“What do you mean he’s escaped Steve?!” You practically screamed in Steve’s face.

“I mean just that Y/N! He up and escaped in the middle of the night murdering one third of the Dora Milage when they tried to stop him!”

This was going to make your rescue mission a lot harder. You could handle a manic Bucky. A Bucky who didn’t know what was going on. Who was confused, and scared. But intentionally violent and one who chose to push you so vehemently away because he didn't want you around...that's very different.

You don’t think you’d be able to put him down if you needed. No, you know you wouldn't be able to. He was your everything. You'd rather die.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself from punching Steve in the face. You've been wanting to do that ever since Steve "allowed" you to help find Bucky and bring him back. He'd forgotten what exactly you were capable of while you were otherwise indisposed.

He had clearly forgotten who you and Bucky were to each other. Clearly had forgotten the half of his life before his new one.

You and Bucky would never be separated. Never truly. When he dies, you die. That was always what the two of you had said. You'd die old together. Have children. Buy a house. Argue incessantly but love each other deeply no matter what happens. You would always find your way back to him. Even if it took 80 years.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader

15 notes · View notes

endless-summer-soldier · 1 year ago

Text

cruel to be kind - chapter six

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.5k

series playlist

series masterlist

taglist sign up (for the people I'm currently tagging - please fill this out if you want me to continue tagging you!)

taglist: @caritobbg @tellmealovestory @mrs-bucky-barnes106 @charmedbysarge @theroyalmanatee @ozwriterchick @aya-fay @differenttyphoonwerewolf @gorillaglue23 @elizabeth916 @matchat3a @buckyb-stan @sebsgirl71479 @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @helluvapimp @blackwood-bodecker-housewife

Y/N sat on a baja blanket, staring out into the ocean, wondering if he would come. Sam confirmed he was able to sneak Bucky the mixtape, but Y/N wasn’t sure that he had decoded her message. On the tracklist, she underlined different letters and numbers that read “Sat 2PM 7th St Beach.” It was subtle, which was her style, but she wasn’t even sure he would figure it out. Hell, he might not even have noticed the pattern. In her mind, it was almost like a test. If he didn’t decode the message, then things weren’t meant to be.

She eyed the book sitting in her lap, willing herself to at least try to read to distract her mind. But everytime she finished a page, she checked her watch to see what time it was. It was now 1:56 and the weight residing in her stomach grew heavier. Who was she kidding, he wasn’t going to show up. This whole thing was stupid and she was kicking herself for ever thinking it was a good idea. She hated this feeling. This was why she pushed people away. Being vulnerable was the easiest way to get hurt.

And now a tear was falling down her cheek. She was so in her head about things that she was crying. She quickly wiped the single tear off her cheek and laid back on the blanket, placing the open book over her face. She had to get her shit together. She would not be the girl crying over a guy. Y/N took in a deep inhale and breathed out of her mouth, calming her nervous system. The oxygen was all she needed to clear her head. Her decision was made.

She stood in the sand and tossed her book in her bag. She folded up her blanket and collected her sandals, trudging through the sand to the boardwalk.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already. I’m only a few minutes late, and for good reason.” Bucky stood in front of her, in his signature leather jacket, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“What are you doing here,” she stated more than asked, adding a few more bricks to the wall that was guarding her heart.

“I got your message,” he smiled. He walked closer towards her and handed her a cup of coffee. “Figured we had some catching up to do,” he added.

She stood there, still processing this. He came. He figured out the message and he showed up. He passed the test. She hadn’t really thought through what would actually happen if he came. And now here he was, standing in front of her.

Before she could respond, Bucky stepped closer, taking the blanket out of her hands and splaying it out over the sand.

“Come on,” he urged her. She didn’t object, sitting down next to him as they looked out onto the ocean.

“I’ve never heard you this quiet before. You usually have a biting remark queued up as soon as you see me.”

“I do not,” she argued.

“See, that’s better already,” he joked, giving her shoulder a light nudge.

“I didn’t think you would come,” she admitted.

“You didn’t think I would come or you didn’t think I would decode your message?”

“The latter is probably a bit more accurate,” she said sheepishly.

“I know it may seem like I’m just a pretty face, but I’ve been known to have clever thoughts every so often.”

His attempts at getting her to loosen up were moderately successful, but she still wasn’t willing to open up just yet. Luckily, Bucky had planned for this. He knew this conversation would take some work.

“Are you happy to see me here?” he asked.

She let out a sigh, “I am. I hate to admit this, but I missed you these past few weeks.”

Bucky placed a hand over his heart, “You missed me?”

She hit his bicep with the back of her hand, “Don’t make me say it again.”

“I missed you too. And all I wanted was to talk to you and explain things. So thank you for giving me the opportunity to do that.”

She merely nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So let me start by admitting that I am a complete idiot and I probably don’t even deserve a second chance, but I appreciate you giving me a chance to redeem myself.”

“Good start,” she commented.

“I agreed to the dare just to get Zemo to shut up. And I think the only reason I really went for it is because you intrigued me. I always found you attractive but I never pursued you because…well honestly you don’t come across as very friendly.”

Y/N chuckled and he continued.

“And then when I first talked to you, it was like I had this need for you to like me. I wanted to figure out what made you tick, and the more time I spent with you, the more I liked you. I need you to know that everything I said was true and that the person you spent all that time with was the real me. The dare just gave me a reason to talk to you. These past few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I haven’t been eating, I’ve barely slept, knowing that I hurt you has been killing me. I can promise you, I will never hurt you again. I think I might be in love with you, and this is the first time I’ve ever felt this way so I’m still figuring it all out, but I will do anything to win you back. I’ll bring you breakfast every morning, I will carry all your books and walk you to class every day, I will give you my car. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just please, give me another chance.”

She was quiet for a second, processing his words.

“Could you, like, say something?” he asked nervously, struggling to read her expression.

“I’m thinking,” she responded. “Did you rehearse that?”

He was confused by her question, but answered anyway. “I mean I had points I wanted to hit on. I think I may have strayed a little bit towards the middle but I think I ended strong.”

She gave him a small smile, “Do you really mean it all or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

He took her hand, “Y/N, I’m not here to bullshit you. I mean every single word. You are the world to me.”

“You used the l-word,” she commented. Bucky found it cute that she couldn’t say love.

“Yeah I wasn’t planning on saying that, but it’s true. I do love you.” He ran his thumb up and down the back of her hand. She was quiet again, thinking through her response. She never took this long to respond, usually she went with whatever popped into her head. Bucky took her hand and placed it to his chest. “Do you feel that? How fast my heart is beating? It gets like that every time I’m around you. And my stomach always feels like there’s a million butterflies fluttering around in there. You do that to me.”

“I love you too.” It fell off her lips so easily, Bucky thought he must have misheard.

“You do?” he asked in disbelief. She bit her bottom lip and shyly nodded her head, trying to hide the smile on her lips. He lost control. He lunged at her, essentially tackling her down onto the blanket as he squeezed her into a tight hug. When he pulled away ever so slightly, his face hovered above hers.

“Are you gonna let me kiss you?” he asked. She simply nodded and his lips were on hers, making up for their lost time. It almost scared her, how easily she fell back into the kiss. Her hand found his jaw as she held him close, not wanting him to leave her vicinity. This was the moment she’d been waiting for and it didn’t disappoint. The spark was there, the longing was there, the love was there. And in that moment she knew that she never wanted to be without him.

They kissed and cuddled for a while and then they sat there together and watched the sunset. Y/N leaned back into Bucky’s arms as he kept her warm from the crisp autumn air. They talked about nothing and everything, trying to catch up on the weeks they had missed. And in that moment she knew she would never grow tired of this. He had somehow managed to thaw her frozen exterior and taught her that love was worth the risk of pain.

As it started to get darker, they packed up their spot on the beach and headed back to the boardwalk. She knew she wasn’t leaving his side tonight. She’d spent too much time away from him and she wasn’t ready to separate just yet.

“Keys please,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Oh are you driving?” he asked skeptically.

“Well yeah, it is my car now,” she replied easily.

Bucky leaned his head back, “Of course, how could I forget.” He placed the keys in her open hand, before wrapping his strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her in close to kiss her temple.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes college au

129 notes · View notes