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from-the-clouds · 3 years

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Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :)

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“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow.

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering.

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared.

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature.

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world.

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band.

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now.

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again.

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her.

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give.

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued.

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her.

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on.

But oh, how much she wanted it to.

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk.

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly.

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all?

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more.

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered.

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right.

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her.

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone.

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

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Part III

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shurisneakers · 4 years

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shut in [7]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, broken bone, origami and paper planes

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!!! ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!! also gif is somewhat related except steve isn’t there sorry to crush any hopes

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Is there a reason you’re back so early?”

Both of the men nervously glanced at each other, silently urging the other to talk. A quiet form of encouragement.

“We chec- we checked all the neighbouring towns. All your safehouses,” one of them finally sputtered up after his partner elbowed him in the ribs.

“And?”

“We coordinated with all our guys across the country to look for them-”

“All I’m hearing are a bunch of excuses,” they twirled the gun on its barrel like it was a plaything. “Get to the point.”

“No one knows where they’re hiding,” he finished, swallowing thickly. “We’re still looking though. We just thought-”

“What?” their voice was surprisingly calm. “That your little status update would impress me? That I’d feel sorry for you for working so hard?”

“N-no boss,” his partner finally pitched in, saving face for his companion who opened and shut his mouth wordlessly. “Just keeping you in the loop. We’re close, I can feel-”

“Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?”

Both of them shut their mouths immediately. Knuckles white, nails digging into their skin as they clenched their fists shut.

“That you wanted them dead,” the first one said with faux confidence. A waver in his voice gave it away.

“Yes, but you’re forgetting the important part,” they tsk’ed, shaking their head, eyes downcast.

They didn’t give anyone a chance to react. They slammed the gun down, swiftly picking it up before taking aim at his partner’s face.

“I said I’d blow your brains out.” They pulled the trigger.

Bits of bone fragment and blood splattered across the first agent’s face. He inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling haphazardly. He had his eyes shut tightly, face away from the carcass slumped over next to him..

“I want every fucking part of this country searched,” they roared, throwing the gun to the side carelessly, leaving someone else to scurry after it. “And since it’s so fucking hard for you to finish two tasks, just get me their location.”

The agent barely nodded, looking like he was about to throw up. His partner’s blood trailed down the side of his face like sweat.

“I’ll kill them myself.”

Hugh Grant was starting to look less appealing on your 6th rewatch of Notting Hill. In fact, he was starting to blend together with the characters from Die Hard and it was becoming difficult to differentiate which part belonged to which movie.

Sam sat opposite to you at the dining table, a set of papers assigned in front of him. The TV was left on, serving as background noise and occasional fillers to substitute the lack of conversation.

“That movie is not making sense anymore,” he stated objectively.

“It stopped after the third time for me.” Your words were hushed, your focus remaining on the swan you were trying to create from scratch.

“If I hear her say ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy’ one more time, I actually think I’ll projectile vomit.” You could tell that his eyes didn’t shift from the screen though. “I can feel the bile. It’s going to happen.”

You only hummed in agreement, more interested in his lamenting than the actual movie.

Although origami wasn’t one of the skills you picked up in the fucking mafia, you still knew a few basic things. The rest you just folded with confidence and prayed it would work.

What other options did you have when you were stuck together in a house with no WiFi?

Sam had made a paper bowl to hold the car keys and the few dollars you picked up from Pierce’s place. It looked like it would fall apart at any given moment, its structural integrity questionable at best.

You had made a small flower that rested on the table in front of you. You were sure it would go missing the minute a draft entered the room.

He had given up after his contribution of the bowl. Apparently his creative expertise extended only towards that and paper airplanes, not that that stopped him. He was folding and manufacturing them with a vengeance.

“How is this supposed to help, Wilson?” you questioned, unable to contain the smile that grew on your face at the sheer number of planes he was making.

“Just because it’s not a decorative marvel-” he shot back in its defence, “-doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

“Oh, yeah? What else can it do other than not fly?” You watched as he launched one of them. It did a loop before falling miserably to the floor.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left. “Besides, your thing won’t even lift off the ground.”

“Yeah, but this one can float.” You held up the swan that you had created. That about concluded your knowledge of origami.

“That’s actually… pretty cool,” he admitted. “Teach me how to make one.”

“A true master never reveals their secrets,” you eluded, placing it on the table.

“I dare you to make another.” Sneaky bastard. He knew you wouldn’t be able to replicate it. He saw you struggle the first time.

“Why, so you can just copy off of me?” you dodged, and Sam narrowed his eyes at you. You followed the same.

Neither of you blinked for a while.

“I’m out of paper,” he finally relented, gesturing to the fleet of planes that littered the table.

“I’m out of ideas.” You paused, looking down at how you’d spent the last hour. “Do you wanna go test these outside later?”

Sam looked up eagerly and you could just tell he was intending on getting competitive. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m going for a run in some time.” You got up to stretch your limbs, shrug off the fatigue that was setting in. Along the way you left the swan and one of the paper planes on top of the mini fridge alongside the car keys. It was cute. “We could do it then?”

“Sure,” he affirmed. “What time?”

“At around 6-” your eyes landed on the clock on the wall before widening, “-shit, shit, shit, I didn't realise it was five thirty. We have a call with Ransone.”

“Phone’s on the couch,” he mentioned to the living room, sitting up straight. “Why are you freaking out? We still got a few minutes to go.”

You pushed yourself away from the table, forcing yourself to shakie off the drowsiness that had begun to set in.

“You wouldn’t get it,” you mumbled, “He gets pissy if I don’t do things his way.”

You grabbed the phone, punching in the buttons and having it at the ready.

You noticed Sam focused on you with knitted eyebrows but not voicing whatever he had on his mind.

“Ready?” you questioned, but more as a formality. You had to do it regardless.

He simply nodded, looking on as you let the phone ring. If he had noticed your antsiness towards the call, he didn’t bring it up.

Ransone picked up on the last ring, not skipping a beat in answering, “Y/N.”

“Hey Ransone.” You switched the call to speakerphone.

“Are you alone?”

You glanced at Sam. He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, edging you to continue with the arrangement you had planned the day prior.

Ransone trusted you more. He was more likely to communicate openly if Sam wasn’t around.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where’s the other one?”

Sam silently scoffed.

“He’s taking a nap.”

“Ah,” Ransone’s tone was condescending. “How have things been?”

“It’s fine.” You press your lips into a straight line, not elucidating. “What’s the update out there?”

“Everything is a mess. We’re trying to figure out who attacked you but since there wasn’t anything left behind or any kind of trace, it’s proving to be... inconvenient.”

“Is it safe to travel?”

“What, with your face on national television?” he laughed. “Nah, I’d say it’s a little too early to be thinkin’ of a road trip. Just stay where you are, I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

Your fingers were thrumming at the table rhythmically, peeking at Sam every now and then for anything he found suspicious or wanted you to ask about.

“Listen, we’ve paid off every big guy to keep this under wraps as much as possible but Pierce was an important person. All the higher ups want this to be solved as quickly as possible. They don’t care about sacrificing a player here or there.”

Pinning the blame on you was easy enough. The faster you were put away, the faster they could stage an “accident” in prison so that none of their secrets were exposed. Wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before.

“Others in the business aren’t likin’ us accusing them of attacking one of our own. Our best bet right now is Serpentine but we haven’t gotten anything to prove it.”

You doubted they ever would. Even if they did do it, Serpentine was notorious for being cunning and stealthy in their operations. They made sure there would be no tracks leading back to them.

“So, we’re at a dead-end,” you verified. There was no telling when this would end, your exit looking further and further away. “We’re fucked.”

“No. We’ll just- Y/N, listen to me,” Ransone called out, drawing your attention back to the call.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always protected you,” his voice was noticeably softer. “Don’t you trust me?”

You felt the temperature in the room drop.

“You said there would be no one there!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ransone scoffed. “I never said that.”

“I walk in there and there’s four people, completely armed.” Forcing yourself to recall it was making your head spin. Maybe you could ask the nurse for a painkiller. “It was supposed to be empty.”

“I think the blood loss is making you delirious,” he chided, looking at the bag of drips hanging above your bed. “It wasn’t even that bad-”

“You’re lying.” The words slipped out before you had the chance to think it over.

“Excuse me?” he tilted his head, tone suddenly sifting to that of warning.

You knew he was. You had agreed to this mission because it was supposed to be easy. It was a break.

“Ivan was there when you briefed me.” You lifted your good arm to point at him shakily. “He knows you’re lying.”

“Does he now?” Ransone quirked an eyebrow, studying his aid who stood in the corner of the dingy hospital room.

A beat of silence passed where Ransone stared at Ivan, waiting for a reply of confirmation.

Ivan only lifted his shoulders in unawareness. “I don’t remember you sayin’ that.”

Your mouth fell agape but you quickly rushed to shut it. Fucking liars. You shouldn’t have expected anything better.

“Told you.” Ransone shrugged. “You’re a smart one, Y/N, so I’m going to let that slide this time. But next time you accuse me of something I didn’t say…”

He trailed off, resting a hand on your broken shoulder. You flinched, jaw clenched so tightly you thought your teeth might break. You tried to imagine yourself somewhere else, desperate to reduce the quivering of your body when he squeezed it lightly.

“You know I’ve always tried to protect you.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head to meet his eye. “Don’t you trust me?”

A beat passed before you responded.

“I do,” you said through gritted teeth, pulling your face away from him.

“I’ll ask them to up your dosage.” Ransone took a step away from you, dropping his hand. “I’m going to need my best player on the field as soon as possible.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement. Every part of your body felt like it was going to combust.

Did he really say that no one was going to be there or was it just the injuries playing with you?

“Get well soon,” he offered, one step out the door. “Buttercup.”

“You trust me, don’t you Y/N?” he repeated when you didn’t respond.

“Yes.” You swallowed, gaze falling to the floor.

“And I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything to break that, would you?”

Sam raised his one hand questioningly as if to ask what the hell he was talking about. An intimidation tactic. He had been using it for several years to reinforce your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t.”

There were things you weren’t telling him, of course. Details about that day or where you and Sam were hiding right off the top of your head. More if you thought about it deeply.

“Good,” came his response. “So if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’m always a call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you soon.” He ended the call there.

You stood there blankly for a while before dropping the phone to the ground and crushing it. Usually you wouldn’t have to do that; removing the battery would be enough. This time you wanted to.

Your chest rose and fell heavily. You loathed him. Yet, you couldn’t fucking leave.

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped back to Sam. “We still going on that run?”

The wind felt good.

Your muscles were burning and you could feel the constriction of your lungs but you liked it. The endorphins were working their charm.

Sam was right beside you, not questioning why there was so much aggression in your movement. You had lost track of how long you had been running. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on that.

The path was paved with fallen branches and roots sticking out, forcing you to hop over some of them to avoid falling. It only annoyed you further.

You wanted to punch something. Or someone. The tension was rolling off your back in waves, and if someone saw you the’d probably believe you were going to commit an act of violence.

It was a while before you felt your steps begin to falter, the need for a proper breath taking precedence over the want to run more.

“Timeout?” you asked Sam breathlessly, slowing your pace to a jog.

“Sure about that, Usain Bolt?” he huffed, slowing his pace to match yours.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed it. “T’was fun.”

Now that you had slowed down, it forced you to come to terms with how much energy you had just burnt out.

“You wanna talk about what’s on your mind or ignore it?”

“Rather not talk about it for now.” The more you thought about him, the angrier you got. And as of late, you had realised that your method of dealing with that anger wasn’t the best.

The air was getting colder. It was getting harder to see what was in front of you, relying on the few rays of sunlight that shone through the treetops. You took a roundabout at your self declared checkpoint, changing course back to the house.

Sam followed wordlessly, but his presence was strangely comforting. Warm.

“Thank you.”

“For...” he trailed off, prodding you on.

“I don’t know. This.” You gestured to the path ahead of you. “I didn’t think you’d agree to it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

You didn’t have an answer to that. Probably because you weren’t used to people just doing nice things for no apparent reason.

“How are you so calm all the time? I’ve never seen him get under your skin,” you asked quietly. “How do you do it?”

He didn’t answer straight away. He mulled over it as he dodged broken sticks and upended roots on the ground. You would be fine if he didn’t answer either; as long as he knew that you appreciated it.

“I just realised that everything he put into me was destructive. Actively worked on unlearning it,” he replied after a while. “It took me years to even begin.”

You expected to hear that but it didn’t make it easier.

“I don’t even know how to start,” you mumbled. It was so tiring, even thinking of where and how it began. It was all you knew. All you were taught.

“If I could add something?”

You looked at him questioningly.

“You had a different relationship with him than all of us, Y/N. A deeper one. It’s not easy to forget that,” he pointed out. “But… you’re not him. That takes strength.”

These weren’t new revelations. It was things you had told yourself earlier to rationalise all your actions. You knew it on a surface level but it was difficult to convince yourself sincerely.

You didn’t say anything, just continued jogging with an eye on the ground.

It felt better to hear it from someone else. A starting point to maybe get to where he was, too.

“I just can’t believe anyone took him seriously enough for him to get this far,” Sam added, a tick of annoyance in his voice. “I don’t condone bullying but someone should have just punched him in the face as a child.”

It wasn’t even the funniest thing you had heard him say but for some reason it elicited a snort from you, soon giving way to a laugh.

His face snapped to yours at the sound of your laughter, a small smile growing on his face.

His brief moment of distraction was all it took for him to not notice the tree root sticking out in front of him. His ankle got caught in the wood, sending him stumbling to the ground face forward.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, halting in your place immediately, dropping to your knees to where he was.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, turning onto his back. “I think I broke my face.”

“That may be a bit excessive but your nose is definitely bleeding,” you knew this was serious but you were finding it difficult to control your laughter once you realised it wasn’t a life threatening injury.

“Just leave me here to die.” He covered his eyes with his elbow, refusing to look at you.

“C’mon, Wilson. Let’s get you fixed up.” You stood up, offering your hand. He grabbed onto it, hoisting himself up. “Can you stand up straight? Do you think you have a concussion?”

“World class assassin,” he grumbled, shaking his head to imply he was fine other than a possible broken nose.

“Promise I won’t tell. Your reputation is safe,” you said it humorously but with conviction, hoping to make it less embarrassing for him. Not that you’d let him forget it any time soon.

It took longer to walk back considering how far you had ventured out, along with the fact that you had to guide him as he held his nose in the air to try and control the bleeding.

You pushed open the door to the house, holding it open as he walked in. Sam made his way to the dining room after you told him you’d get the first aid kit for the second time during your stay there.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, grabbing an old t-shirt along the way, he had a single ice cube pressed to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not going to be enough.” You dropped the kit onto the table, opening the mini fridge. You emptied the ice cubes from the tray onto the t-shirt, twisting it into a small ice pack.

“These are my battle scars.” You could tell that he was trying not to use his nose. He sounded ridiculous.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Sam,” you chortled. His mouth eased into a half smile and you didn’t get why until you realised it was the first time you had called him by his name. You didn’t acknowledge it, surprised by how easily it slipped out from your mouth when you weren’t actively stopping it.

You gave him a bit of cotton to wipe off the blood that had dried on his face.

“Look up,” you instructed, standing over him so you could assess the damage. He complied, letting you cradle his jaw softly, tilting his head to see if there were any signs of a fracture or anything worse.

It was a bad fall, but nothing he hadn’t been through before in terms of severeness. It wasn’t going to leave a mark.

“Definitely going to bruise but it’s not broken,” you concluded, going over it once more to make sure.

“Thanks, doc,” his voice came softly from below you. Only then did you realise how close you were standing to him. You could feel his breath on your wrist that was still caressing his face.

It felt like eternity, but he didn’t make an effort to move or shove you away. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for a second. If you just leaned dow-

“Right,” you cleared your throat, taking a step back. “Just hold this to your face for a while to reduce any swelling.”

You handed him the makeshift ice pack, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“Your turn to use the bed tonight, right?” His voice was significantly lower than what it had been a few minutes ago, something you weren’t acclimated to hearing. It only made your face feel hotter.

“Yeah.” You avoided meeting his eyes, using the time to close the first aid kid. “Unless you want it.”

“No, go ahead.”

It was too early to retire for the evening but suddenly you weren’t all that hungry anymore. Apparently neither was he.

“See you tomorrow, then?” you inquired, turning away before he could see you cringe.

“See you tomorrow,” he confirmed, “Good night.”

You just gave him a short wave over your shoulder and physically restrained from walking to the room, shutting the door and never looking at him again. You hoped he didn’t notice or at least never bring it up if he did.

You couldn’t do this. Not again.

Not when you knew the consequences.

Next part

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

waiting on you > steve rogers

|| pairing: steve rogers x black!reader

|| word count: 3,608

|| warnings: smut, sex, angst, sad steve, sad reader, friends to lovers

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo SSB2020 N4: love confessions

|| note: here it is! 24hrs late BUT, technically, you can celebrate a birthday for like an entire week. this got stupid sad because i was listening to the atonement soundtrack again. anyway, happy birthday to this big, blonde, dummy - the only reason that july 4th means anything to me anymore. i went heavy with the italics again.

divider by @writeyourmindaway

gifs (at the bottom) by @/largoaneditt

You don’t know why this idiot makes you so nervous. He’s a big, blonde… idiot, but yet here you are, nursing your third beer, staring at him from the corner of the room as he wiggles his hips - rather suggestively. He stands next to Sam, both of them facing the opposite wall, beers in hand, shaking their asses as the rest of the party goers hoot and holler.

“I don’t know Rogers,” Bucky says, shaking his head, “I think your age is finally catching up with your ass.”

“Bullshit,” Steve laughs, “Listen, I happily turn over my shield and suit to you, Sam, but that is my moniker! Look at it!” He shouts, pointing to his ass, “This will always be America’s ass!”

The room erupts in laughter and you can’t help but chuckle yourself. Idiots. All of them. He looks good tonight though - relaxed, finally. You’ve known them all for just a little while, Wanda, Steve, Sam, Bucky, but since Steve has officially decided to retire, he’s like a completely different person. He’s Steve - not Captain America. Which has actually proven to be an absolute nightmare for you because if you thought you had a crush on Captain America... whew, be still your beating vagina.

Steve is funny. Steve is confident, and laid back, and wears fitted chinos with Vans Classic Slip Ons. You have Sam to thank for this updated style of Steve’s, and you honestly want to stab Sam right through his buff chest. He’s made it impossible for you to be around Steve without having to change your underwear - a fact that Sam finds hilarious, but your wallet does not.

But, it’s more than that. Steve is also warm. He’s attentive to his friends. He listens. He cares. Steve goes out of his way to make people feel welcome, even you, the first night you wandered back to Sam and Bucky’s apartment with Wanda for one of their parties. You never left Wanda’s side, keeping your head down, your eyes cast at your hands and feet. He picked up on your nervousness quickly, but didn’t outwardly address it. He just made sure you always had a drink in your hand, a chip or sandwich to nibble on - he even adjusted the thermostat when he noticed you running your hands up and down your arms.

Steve is easy to talk to. Steve is humble, reliable, dependable, strong - both physically and mentally - but he’s also... emotional and vulnerable - not just sometimes, but almost all the time. Then, he can turn right around and throw somebody through a wall. Steven Grant Rogers is dangerous… and you think you lov -

You take a sip of your beer, closing your eyes quickly to chase those thoughts away, and reach for another chip, loading it up with some of Wanda’s famous dip before you shove it into your mouth, the taste calms your nerves.

“Why are you hiding over here?”

His voice makes you jump. You pop open your eyes and inhale sharply as the one and only Steve Rogers towers over you. He smiles softly as you blink at him, before he reaches for a chip and pops it into his mouth.

“I’m not hiding,” you answer quickly, scrunching your face, “I’m eating, there’s nothing wrong with eating.”

“You’re quiet tonight.” He says, chewing slowly as he shoves his hand into his pocket and narrows his eyes at you, “You okay?”

You scoff, and roll your eyes to try and pretend that you have no idea what he’s talking about, “I’m fine, Rogers.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop,” you laugh, raising your hand, “I’m fine.”

He shrugs, one of those I know you’re not okay, but I’m gonna drop it shrugs, and takes another long swig of his beer, “You know,” he starts, nodding slowly, “You still haven’t wished me a happy birthday. That’s kinda rude.”

“Well,” you laugh, “Don’t hold your breath. You’ve had your fair share of birthday wishes over the last, you know, one hundred and two years.”

He shakes his head, smiling at your sarcasm. You wiggle your eyebrows and push your chin forward a little, slightly proud of your attitude and your way of not falling into a giggly, stupid mess in front of him. Then, suddenly, there’s a… shift. All of the false confidence you had just seconds before floods out of you as his eyes drift down your body, before snapping back up to your wide eyes. He tilts his head and that soft smile appears again.

You’re not drunk enough for this. You lift your beer to your lips and focus on finishing it as quickly as possible as you glance away from him and focus on something, anything else in the room. You immediately grab another green glass bottle from the ice bucket, handing it to him for him to pop off the cap. You hear him chuckle, and then feel his large hand wrapping around your wrist before you're being pulled through the apartment.

“Excuse me,” you laugh a little, having to nearly jog to keep up with his long strides, “Sir, this is kidnapping.”

You let him pull you out of the apartment and up a few flights of stairs before you burst out onto the roof. He pulls you to the edge of the building, dropping your arm so he can rest his hands against the ledge. You cut your eyes towards him as you grip your beer bottle in your hands. He gazes out over the city, the lights from the buildings and the stars lighting up his eyes. His expression is soft as no doubt hundreds of memories flash through his head.

“It’s nice up here, huh?” He says after a minute.

“It is.” You nod, casting your eyes out over the illuminated city, “I’m kind of mad you’ve been hiding this from me.”

“You’ve been hiding from me.” Your mouth drops at the sudden admission. He turns his head towards you, blinking, “You’re always hiding from me.”

“I don’t,” you start, shaking your head as you swallow hard. You laugh nervously and try to play it off, “What are you talking about, Rogers? You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.” He shrugs, “I can’t - I haven’t been drunk since 1939. I just, I like you and, I don’t know,” he trails off, turning away from you to look back out over the city, “You just are always so distant when you’re around me.”

You stare at the side of his face, your eyes wide, your mouth literally hanging open. You grip the glass bottle in both of your hands as your mind recaps the words that have just left his mouth. I like you. You’re always hiding from me.

“I think you like to hide though,” he says, taking your beer from your hands and taking a swig, “It’s like a mechanism, or something. That’s what my therapist told me that I do, so, I guess I can kinda see it in other people now.”

“Therapist?” you ask, your voice soft.

He nods, still looking out over the city, “Mmhmm, at Bucky’s persistence. It’s nice to hide though, right? Like, you can be here but not here at the same time? Present, but not present.” He clears his throat, dropping his head, “You can feel but not feel.”

Your eyes drift away from him slowly, knowing exactly what he’s talking about - feeling exactly what he’s feeling. It is nice to hide. You’ve done it your whole life, but seemingly more over the past few years, “Yeah,” you finally offer, “It is.”

The air is warm as it whips around you on this July night. Brooklyn is as alive as ever - cars honking, people laughing and chatting on the streets below, planes flying over head. You swallow again as you cast your eyes down to your feet, his words still running on a loop through your head. I like you. You’re always hiding from me.

“I do like you, I mean that. I do.” You snap your eyes back up to the side of his face as he keeps his head down, “I remember the first time you came over with Wanda.” He turns towards you and smiles, “You had on that flowery thing, I don’t know what it’s called.”

That night flashes before your eyes. Apparently he’s been staring at you from the corner of the room too, “A romper. I love that thing.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, “You looked amazing.”

“Steve, is everything okay?” You ask suddenly, because, clearly, he’s not okay.

He nods again, smiles again, “Yeah. Are you okay?”

You laugh out of… you’re not really sure. Surprise? Nerves? Confusion? Or maybe, just the fact that you’re realizing that he’s not okay and you’re not okay - and the two of you are desperately trying to prove that you are okay, but at the same time trying to deal with the fact that you’re not okay.

“Yeah,” you titter softly, “I’m okay.”

“Good.” He says, taking another drink of your beer, “I’m gonna get more. I’ll be back.”

Without another word to you, he moves away from the ledge and disappears behind the heavy metal door. You let out a breath that you weren’t aware you were holding and turn to face the cityscape. It is nice out here. Calming.

Your heart sinks a little when you start to think about Steve wasting hour after hour, day after day, up here, all by himself, trying to deal with just living. He’s been Captain America for damn near eighty years - now he’s just Steve, but in 2020 - not 1939. He doesn’t know this Steve.

You’re always hiding from me.

You turn away from the city, spotting an old, lumpy couch tucked in the corner of the roof. You move towards it slowly, rubbing your fingers against your pant leg as you move. You plop down and stare at your fingers as you start to rub them roughly. I like you. Fuck. That’s all you’ve wanted to hear, right? Since the day you laid eyes on him, like every other woman across the United States. It’s here, right in front of you and -

The door opens, the metal creaking as Steve steps through it. It slams shut and you jump a little from the jarring sound. He turns to you, but dips his head, keeping his eyes low as he steps towards you and then falls onto the couch beside you. He hands you a beer and clinks the necks together before he takes a drink. You follow suit, swallowing the golden liquid slowly as you keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for being so blunt,” he laughs, spinning the dark green glass in his hands, “I don’t want you to be put off or anything. I’m not trying to make a move on you, I’m just-” he drops his head again, “It’s been weird for me, lately.”

“Don’t be sorry. Turning a hundred and two would be weird for anyone.” You laugh.

“Bucky seems to be doing okay.” He smiles, keeping his eyes on his beer, “I’m happy for him, I really am. He and Sam are just so good together.”

“They are,” you smile, “But you feel stuck, right? Like everybody is moving and you’re just standing still.”

He nods slowly as he chews on the inside of his cheek, his fingers picking at the label glued onto the glass bottle, “I still want us to be friends, okay?” He picks his head up and turns to you, his eyes as blue as ever, but just a little sad and worried, “Just… forget about what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

You sit your bottle between your legs and tap your manicured fingers against it as another silence drops over the two of you, “I don’t mean to hide,” you say quietly, ignoring his comment to just forget it, “You’re right, I do like to, but I don’t mean to. Not from you, anyway.”

You feel his eyes on you, wandering around before he speaks, “Why not from me?”

You laugh, sadly, “I um, I was married a few years ago. He um, he,” the emotion clogs up your throat. Fuck, it’s been two years and you still can’t talk about him. You shake your head, keeping your eyes on your hands, “I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” You whisper, “I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time, it’s just, whenever I’m around you… it just scares me, I guess.”

You see a shadow of his long arm reaching for you. Then, the rather soft tips of his fingers trace your chin before he lifts it slowly, so he can look at you - really look at you. You close your eyes before the two of you can make eye contact and smile nervously as a tear slips from the corner of your eye. He hums to himself as the backs of his fingers sweep across your cheek, removing the tear, before they move back down to cup your chin.

“Open your eyes.”

You laugh, a sad smile on your face, “I can’t.”

“You can.” He presses, “Open your eyes, please.”

You take a breath, pressing your lips together as your eyes start to flutter. You blink furiously, but focus in on him - his face, his eyes - and then exhale deeply. You’ve been waiting to exhale for two long years. He closes the distance between the two of you before you can process it, and his lips are suddenly on yours. Soft. Warm. Still. His hands cup your face as you rest yours on his broad shoulders, gripping slightly.

He pulls away but barely, still so close that his lips rest on yours. You open your eyes again to find his closed, his long dark eyelashes splashing against his smooth skin. He takes slow, deliberate breaths, the air from him washing over your face. You lift your hands, slowly, and place them on either side of his face, a small smile curling onto your lips. You press your mouth to his again. A little harder than the first time; and Steve responds a little harder this time.

The kiss doesn’t dissolve into desperation, regardless of if the two of you feel desperate - going untouched for so long. It stays sweet. It stays gentle, the kiss. You’re pulled into his lap, straddling his legs with yours, and it feels like you belong here. His tongue pushes, softly, asking permission by sweeping across your bottom lip. You grant it, the permission he asks for, without hesitation.

You moan at the warmth of his velvety tongue. It spreads through you quickly, warming parts of you that you thought were long dead. His tongue slides along yours as he holds you to him, pressing his fingers into your thin t-shirt and back, pulling you close. So close. He licks at the roof of your mouth before he pulls your top lip between his, sucking gently. It makes you moan again.

Steve kisses down your chin and throat, working his way to the crook of your neck as he continues to hold you so tight. He nips at your skin, finding that little spot that sends a direct bolt of lightning to your core. You throw your head back, biting down into your bottom lip as you dig your fingers into his shoulders. Your hips start to push into his as his warm fingers move underneath your shirt to feel your flesh for the first time.

Your mouth open falls as you start to pant. Now that his fingers are on your skin - that whole desperation thing starts to kick up. He pushes your shirt up, up over your breasts and then just stops there, staring up at you with those eyes. His thumbs rub your sides as he holds them. He pushes in again, and presses his lips to the center of your chest, right in the valley between your breasts and then just rests there; breathing you in, feeling you. You smile, and run your fingers over the top of his head and through his hair before you rest your chin on his head.

His fingers start to roam again, slipping along the band of your jeans. You bite your lip as you push your hips forward; ready. The button on your jeans pops, the zipper rolls down and you're on your back, Steve’s weight now pushing you into the cushions. Your legs are suddenly bare - you feel the warm air brushing along your skin. His lips are back on your neck as you wrap your arms around him, spreading your legs for him to settle in between.

He fumbles around, pulling himself free, pushing your thin panties to the side. You’re nervous, he’s nervous - you can feel him shaking, but just a little. Then you both gasp as you're suddenly full of him and he’s encased by you. You groan, and so does he. His breath washes over your face as you both get used to the feeling again.

He braids his fingers with yours and pushes them up over your head as he kisses you deeply. He starts to move - his hips pushing into yours, and then pulling away. You start to pant as his strokes get deeper - harder - as he breathes directly into your mouth. It’s sweet, his breath, even as it’s laced with alcohol.

God, he’s such a soft lover. His hands, his lips, his thrusts, all just so soft. Passionate. Caring. He hovers over you, his eyes closed as he leans in to kiss you gently, his lips barely touching yours. You cup his cheek in your hand as his lips brush along yours, both of you breathing each other's air as his hips tenderly push into yours. He drops his lips to your throat again, kissing the base of your neck before he runs the tip of his nose up your chin - a small, barely there smile on his face.

You kiss him hard, only breaking it to hiss. Your toes curl as the familiar pull in your stomach starts to build. Steve nuzzles into your neck, keeping his fingers laced with yours as his hips continue to grind. Your and his sounds mix and mingle before they are carried away by the soft breeze. Your heart starts to beat hard against your chest, your blood rushes as your body starts to tighten.

He lifts your leg, hiking it over his hip but holds his hand there, gripping and groping your flesh softly as his thrusts now reach deeper. You gasp, gripping his biceps, your fingers pushing indents into his skin as your sex quivers from the attention. You bite down into your bottom lip, whimpering just a little as a dull pain ripples through you as you stretch to accommodate him - it’s been too long and he’s, more, than you expected.

“Y’okay?” He slurs, his forehead resting against yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, “Baby, you-”

“Fine,” you breathe, “I’m fine- ah! -” you hiss as he hits that spot, “S’good, Steve. Don’stop… please.”

And then it blooms. It starts slow, at the tips of your toes before it floods throughout every inch of your body. You dig your fingers into his hands as you come, your hips bucking, your pants and cries loud and thick. He only lasts seconds longer, before his hips hitch and the growls scratch at the back of his throat.

The calm is beautiful afterward. It’s not awkward or strained. You’re just two people trying to be okay, trying to reach out, trying to heal and move forward - trying to deal with the feelings swirling around in your chests and minds. There’s a blanket thrown over the back of the couch - he tugs it over the two of you, covering you from the elements and any prying eyes if they happen up onto the roof.

You jump when the first firework explodes in the air. He chuckles and pulls you into his side, kissing your face as he drags his fingers, over your collar bones. Another firework goes off, and then another, and another, bringing you both back into the present. No more hiding.

“I think I love you,” he whispers, watching the fireworks through your fingers as he lifts your hand into the air, “Is that weird?”

“Shit,” you laugh, curling your fingers between his, “I hope not, cuz I think I love you.”

Another firework pops in the air - red, white, and blue splashing against the dark sky. But all you can see are your hands, your small fingers laced with his long ones, twisting and curling around one another. He flattens his palm to yours before he brings it down to his lips, giving each finger a kiss before he lays a gentle one on the back of your hand.

“You still haven’t wished me a happy birthday.”

You laugh loudly, pushing his shoulder, “And I’m still not gonna!”

“Why not?” he asks, laughing, picking your hands up again to watch your fingers dance with one another's, “That’s mean.”

“I’m a Taurus.”

Steve’s laugh makes you smile - yet another thing to add to the list of why you love this big idiot of a man.

“That’s okay,” he whispers, pushing his nose into the side of your face as he nuzzles close, “You’ve got every year of the rest of your life to wish me a happy birthday.”

You don’t answer. You just smile harder and roll your face towards his, rubbing your nose along his.

Steve Rogers is also a dreamer - how lovely.

#SSB2020 #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fic #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x black!reader #black reader #black!reader #avintagekiss24

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georgiapeach305132 · 3 years

Text

Man Out of Time: Chap. 55, Let Her Go

Third Person POV:

Briefly after the wedding ceremony, Wanda pulls Bucky and Charlie over to her side, "You guys wanna know?" She gives them the most genuine smile she can muster. "Look at it as a wedding gift." They look at one another. Like always Bucky's hand rests on the bump, feeling the tiny kicks from their baby.

"Yeah. We wanna know." He tells her, both shaking their head.

"You got names picked out?" She asks them. They both nod their head yes. "You could read the baby, Charlie. Why haven't you?" She only shrugs, smiling up at her husband.

Just to make sure, Wanda places her hands on Charlie's stomach, looking over to see Steve watching in the background. He's never too far from the couple. She reads him too. She pities the man. Knowing that he's biding his time until he goes back to the past, his rightful place, and live in his time loop. Wanda's magic wiggles around on Charlie's womb. With tears in her eyes, she looks up at the parents. "He's already so strong and a protector just like his daddy." Loudly Charlie let's out a sob, Bucky blankets her body in his arms. "We're having a boy, doll. You were right." "I know. I want him to look just like you, and watch him look just like me." She gives a giggle looking up at her husband. Bucky Barnes is her husband.

"So, what are the names?" "We were having a hard time choosing. He has a few." She tells the red head. Wanda just raises her eyebrows, urging the woman to go on. "Callan Grant Buchanan Barnes."

Wanda's eyes drift over to the man on the sidelines, watching the conversation. He smiles with tears in his eyes. After all this time, all that they've all been through together, they still wanted to name the boy after him.

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Begrudgingly Bucky readies himself for a small mission with Sam, packing his bag his attention is constantly turning back to look at his wife. Bucky has a wife. Charlie is now obviously pregnant. Her hand cradles her bump, while small tears fall from her eyes. "Do you have to go?" She whines to the super soldier. Since their first date they've been inseparable, and her emotional pregnant self has made her need for him that much stronger. She already feels the emptiness the lack of his metal arm resting on her stomach leaves behind.

"No, I don't really have to go. If you don't want me to go all you have to do is ask." His face almost begs her to ask him to stay. He knows she won't. It's a small mission. Should only take a few days. Steve volunteered to go in his place, but he's not supposed to exist. He walks across the floor of their new addition to the house, the smell of the lemony floor cleaner wafts up to his nose. He loves it here, with her. Once he reaches her side he rubs on her bump. Metal digits add the tiniest bit of pressure, and his son kicks at the spot where his hand rests. Why is he leaving her again? "I love when he does that. It's like he knows it's me." "Oh, he knows." Charlie gives Bucky a weak smile, but he pushes his large frame in between her legs. His metal hand remains on her stomach, but his right one caresses her face. He's always heard about pregnancy glow, but there's no way that anyone looks as beautiful as his girl. His wife. His Charlie Barnes.

"I'll be back before you know it, doll. Steve will be here." He gives her a slight eyeroll.

"Yeah, but Steve is not you." He gently kisses her lips. "I mean, he just has two normal arms." Her little giggle causes him to nibble at her neck as she playfully pushes him away. "Okay, okay. You'll let me know when you get there and head back, yeah?"

"Don't I always?" His smile causes her butterflies to flutter around in her stomach. All this time, and he still causes that feeling. They're married and expecting a child and he still has the ability to make her feel like she's a sixteen-year-old.

"Well, I don't know old man. You've never been on a mission without me. Just stay safe, please. We need you back in one piece." "I'm always safe, doll face." Her smile fades. Bucky is anything but always safe. Before her he was a bit of a loose cannon. Charging into a fight, regardless of the repercussions, but now he has a wife and an unborn child to worry about. "I'm coming back to you. Be a good girl until I get back." Getting on his knees the large super soldier leans forward only speaking to his baby. "Listen baby bean, I need you to protect your mom. She's going to miss your daddy, but you have to keep her safe. I'm entrusting you to protect her at all costs. I know it's in you. Stay baking in your oven, even though I can't wait to hold you outside of that nest of yours. I love you baby bean." His strong broad shoulders lean in between Charlie's spread thighs and kisses along her belly. Charlie's fingers pet along his bearded jaw, loving how sweet the hardened Bucky Barnes can be towards her. "And mama, when I return, I expect to be in this same position. Except I want a view of my pretty pussy." "Bucky..." Charlie's voice warns him.

"Nope, it's not a discussion. It's a need." He stands pushing her lightly against the bed, hovering over her while he kisses her sweet mouth. His fingers wrap around the dog tags that she never removes around her neck. Keeping a piece of his history with her always.

"Ahem...You ready, Buck?" Sam's deep baritone voice echoes through the new room. "Hey Charlie. I'll keep him safe for you. It won't be long."

Bucky leans back up, pulling Charlie up with him and she walks over to Sam, kissing the side of his cheek. "You better Sammy. Or you become honorary father." Bucky comes to Charlie's side, gently kissing her cheek as the couple bid their farewell.

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Steve watches his former fiancé prepare super for the three left behind. He should have been the one to go on the mission. His love for the woman, and his dwindling down of time he has left with her in this state is making his need to touch her stronger. And now they're alone. Just him, her, and their small daughter.

He watches her sway to the music that drifts off the record player. Her pregnant self was always one of his favorite Charlie's, but this time she's bubbling with happiness. The time he had her pregnant there was a lot of pain and suffering, because he wasn't Bucky and it was after the battle against Thanos. A time when Charlie thought Bucky was gone forever. At the time they both settled for one another. He kicks himself because he had it all, and still wanted someone else. Life is cruel sometimes. Even crueler when the woman you want is helplessly and hopelessly in love with your best friend.

He stands beside the woman, too close. He needs to feel her on him. Helping her cut up the vegetables as an excuse. The only current excuse he can think of to be this close to her, "Thanks, Steve." She whispers. Causing that feeling deep inside of him to melt.

"Charlie..." He whispers. I'm pushing it, he thinks. She's vulnerable. Her husband left only hours ago to go on a mission, and now that they're alone he thinks now is a good time to tell her how he feels. It won't change anything, but she should know.

"Hmm?" She responds, never looking at him.

"Um...I... I'm sorry." That's not what he wanted to say at all. And this is where things should have been left.

"For what Steve?" She turns looking at him finally, giving him her signature sweet smile. And then he's overcome. His hand cups the growing bump of hers and Bucky's baby. Leaning forward he presses his lips up against hers. And for a moment, she returns the kiss. For a split second she moaned at the feeling of him against her. For one fleeting fucking second, she pulled him closer, only to push him away from her.

"What was that?" She whispers, but she also doesn't seem mad.

"I... I've got to go." Steve grabs his coat and walks out of the house without another word. Leaving a pregnant Charlie very much alone. She rubs on her belly as a single tear falls down her cheek. What was that? Why did she respond to his touch? She loves Bucky with every fiber of her being, so why did her body react to Steve like that? History. That's what it was.

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An old and gray Steve watches his younger self pace around the small apartment. he listens knowing that this conversation would happen. It always does. Being stuck in a time loop you get used to the mess his younger self causes. Burdened to repeat this life until the end of time. No matter what he does to change the outcome, doesn't matter how he manipulates situations, it always goes back to Bucky and Charlie, leaving him to try something to make Charlie change her mind, knowing that she can't even if she wanted to. He's doomed to this fate. Doomed to always want the girl he's not with. When he was with Charlie, he wanted Peggy. When he was with Peggy, he wanted Charlie.

"She didn't pull away at first. She pulled me closer to her. She still loves me." He tells the old man, continuing his pacing of the floor.

"Doesn't make a difference, son. You weren't meant to end up with her. How many times do I have to tell you that? I've repeated this hundreds of times. Tried something new every time. And it always leads us here. Be thankful you had the time that you got with her. Be thankful that you love Peggy. Go back to that time with Peggy and enjoy the life you have with her, please. That way I can see them." "How can you be so calm?" A young blonde Steve shouts at the old man.

"Son, all those years ago when my time loop started, I made a rash decision to leave my daughter. We pay for that for eternity. But I know I have those times and memories with them." "Does it get any easier?" He asks the old man.

"No. But the good thing is, when I die the process repeats itself. And we get all that time with each of them all over again. You have a good life with Peggy and your kids, you know? You'll miss Charlie, Maggie, Bucky, and whatever they have this time around. One time it was triplets. They didn't have any more kids after that." The old man gives the blonde a smile. "Listen, beating yourself up isn't going to help. You left your daughter and a pregnant Charlie alone. Bucky and Sam are on a mission. Maybe it's time you head back." The blonde doesn't move. Just stares at his old self. The good thing is when he dies, he gets to do this all over again. And he'll try something different this time, eventually he'll get to have it all. "Son...she needs you. I promise you. Go. If you don't, you'll never forgive yourself." The blonde eyes go wide as he listens to the man. She's alone. People have been looking for her for years. He runs out the door and to the small cottage.

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Charlie still confused busies herself cleaning up the house. Maggie and Alpine play quietly in their new room. While she finishes up the dishes. A slight shift in the nearby living room causes her to turn. Charlie drops the plate she was holding on the floor as she comes face to face with a large and intimidating man. His bright copper hair shines in the kitchen light. Expensive deep grey pinstripe suit adorns his broad shoulders. A scar runs down the right side of his face, and he gives her an evil smile as he looks down at her swollen belly.

Charlie instinctively backs up, wrapping her arms around her belly. She catches sight of Maggie looking down at her, blinking twice, telling her to get to the panic room, hide away, and trigger the cameras. Hoping the man is in frame. Two men clad in all black come on either side of Charlie. "Cuff her." Quickly they add a special cuff to her arm, but hold her arms on either side of her. "Take off those stupid bracelets. No Stark technology left on her body." The men do as their told. Dropping them on the floor. "Where's that pretty little daughter of yours, Princess of Asgard?" "She's not here. She's with her dad." Charlie tries to remain calm. Wanting to stall in hopes that Steve will in fact return. She tries to activate her lightning, all to no avail.

"The cuff, it's not to keep you contained, Princess. It's to keep your powers at bay. We know all about you. Those were developed for you. Perfected for the Maximoff girl." Wanda. He's Hydra.

"So, you work for Hydra?" "Princess, I am Hydra." His deep bass voice reverberates off the kitchen as his tall frame walks closer to her. He would tower over the two super soldiers, and he's also much broader. His large thick fingers rub along her baby bump, smiling as his fingers move more gracefully than fingers of that size should. "Well, well. Looks like our work is done."

His eyes roam around the house until he spots a photo of Bucky and Charlie on their wedding day, it's only been a few weeks since that day. They both are so happy, smiles permanently shone on their face. His metal hand cups her bump, the white lace making the Vibranium shine even brighter as they smile against each other. Perfectly happy. He walks over to the picture, dropping the frame in the floor, shattering the Tiffany's frame. A gift from Pepper, it was identical to the frame that houses a picture from her and Tony's wedding. Charlie's eyes fill with tears as she watches him pick up the picture. Stall a bit more. Steve will return.

"The soldier did fall in love. It's his baby in your belly?" He looks over at the small woman, and she doesn't answer. With a snap of his finger one of the men slap her hard against her face. "I asked you a question goddess. Is the bastard in your belly his?" She nods her head. "I bet you're wondering who I am. I'm Johann Fennhoff. But you can call me Doctor Faustus. I've studied yours and the soldier's file. And seeing how you two finally finished the work that Pierce started we're going to take you in. And when we find that blonde angel of yours, she's coming too. Does she have any powers? Steve's her father, right? Erskine's serum...hmm...should be different then the soldier." Unblinking Charlie stares at him.

Snapping his fingers, the man slaps her again. "Charlotte, this will go a lot better for you if you comply. I asked a fucking question and I expect a fucking answer. Is Steve Rogers her father?" "Yes." She squeaks out. Charlie's cheeks are red and developing welts at the smacks the agents dealt across her face.

"Any powers?" "No." "I have no desire to wait on her return. I know you're lying to me Princess of Asgard. There's no way a goddess and the original, well second original, super soldier didn't create a child with powers." He walks closer to her. His round belly pushes up against her baby bump. The lingering smell of his clove cigarette wafts through her nostrils, causing her to retch. "We'll get her. The soldier too. You'll be put back in the program, breeding for us. We'll have an army of them. You'll be so wore out. The cuffs won't let you deactivate the soldier." "The Wakandans took that out of his head. He's no longer the Winter Soldier." Tears freely fall down her face.

His large hand plays with Charlie's deep brunette hair, coming down to her chin, lifting her face up to look at him. "We put them in there once, we can do it again. Such a pretty little thing. No wonder the super soldiers wanted a piece of that pussy. You better be glad you're pregnant Princess. We want that bastard intact. Don't be the insolent little bitch you were when you were younger and this will go a lot easier." He pulls up the picture into her face. "I hope you enjoyed this day. You'll never see the two of you smile again. Take her to the jet. Search the premises and see if the brat is here."

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Steve runs into the cottage. It's a wreck, clothes, pictures, books, overturned furniture scatter the floor of the cottage. His eyes scan around. No, not Charlie. Not Maggie. Bucky will never forgive him. He'll never forgive himself. His last effort of hope, he runs upstairs, still disarray is everywhere. Please, let them be here. Hopefully whoever this was they didn't find what they were looking for. Most likely they were looking for his family. He runs into the former master bedroom, now, Maggie's bedroom, into the closet there's a secret. A secret that Charlie thought was silly, but he thought was necessary. Placing his hand up to the screen the panic room door opens.

He cries out seeing a small blonde girl curled up with her munchkin cat Alpine. Her bright blue eyes turn to look at him and she uncontrollably cries while he holds her tightly. Her words are inaudible as she tries to tell him what happened. "Daddy, th-th-they took mommy. Are they going to kill her? I want my mommy." He has to be the strong one for his daughter, but he wants to scream at his idiocy. How could he be so stupid? First the kiss, and now he's got Charlie kidnapped. "I h-h-hit the button." She tells him. His eyes go bright thinking that they may know who's behind this.

"I've got to take you to the compound and call Bucky and Uncle Sam." "No!" She screams. "Don't leave me. What if they come back?" "Angel, I have to help them get mommy, okay? Bruce will be there. He'll make sure everything is secure." "Where were you? We needed you." Steve's world shatters. The small blonde is right. He should have been here. Still holding the girl, he grabs his phone. Directly dialing the Quinjet.

Bucky sees the number come through. Why would Steve be calling. As soon as it connects, he knows. He hears Maggie sobbing in the background, Steve sniffling. "What happened?" When Steve doesn't answer he grows more panicked, more agitated. "What fucking happened, Steve?" "She's gone." Bucky's world goes black.

"What? What?" He pants out, unable to make coherent sentences. Sam is the one who has to continue the speech, trying to remain calm himself. "Steve, what do you mean she's gone?" "Someone took her. Maggie was in the panic room. She pushed the button so I have footage, hopefully." "Where were you, Steve?" Bucky's voice spits out. Venom pointed directly at Steve.

"I was...out. Buck, I'm..." "Save it. You can apologize when she's returned." ___________________________________________________________________

Bucky and Sam walk through the cottage. Bucky falls on his knees looking at the house. They, whoever they are, took her from him. Took her and his child. "I'll fucking kill every one of them, Sam. I need her." His face is stone cold. Slowly standing he goes to the office, the computer is busted all to hell, but they didn't discover the back up. Popping open the secret door he pulls out the hard drive. "I don't know what I'll do if something happens to her." "We're getting her back, Buck. Let's see what they wanted." Steve bounds into the cottage at that point, and Bucky's eyes burn holes in him. He wears a fully black suit. He can't go in there as Captain America.

"You should have been here, Steve." Bucky's cold voice tells him. He watches Sam ready the footage. Watching it all three men feel bile worm its way up their throat. This is the plan. Watching as Hydra agents slap at a pregnant Charlie.

Bucky stands walking into the kitchen, seeing Charlie's gauntlets laying in the floor. He picks them up, putting them in the pocket that holds the knife he took from her all those years ago. Her rings thrown onto the floor. Picking them up, rolling them in his fingers. The delicate white gold is a reminder that she's his. He will get her.

"Buck...Bucky. The good thing is they want her safe. They want her to deliver the baby. We'll find her." Sam's voice tries to calm and soothe the soldier. He feels the need to kill and destroy anyone that would threaten his wife, his children, his family. Sam is right. They want her alive.

"Find everything you can about Hydra. I'm going to talk to Zemo." "They won't let you. That didn't work out so well last time. He kind of escaped because of you." Sam warns him. "I don't care if I have to talk to him through the phone. Charlie, my Charlie, is gone. We have no leads other than Doctor Faustus. Do you realize how many Hydra bases there are? What else do I have? And you..." Bucky walks up to Steve. "I can't even look at you right now. You had no right to leave. What was so fucking important that you left my wife and your daughter alone? They have cuffs to take her powers away. She's..." "I made the biggest mistake of my life. I'm sorry, Buck. I had..." "What did you have to do? Tell me what was so important that you left my wife alone to be taken from me." Sam goes to stand in between the two. Using his hands to push them apart. Charlie wouldn't want them fighting.

"I had to talk to my future old man self." "About what? You couldn't wait until I got back?" Fury burns in Bucky's blue eyes as he stares at the man.

"About Charlie, Bucky! I'm in a fucking time loop. I've repeated this process hundreds of times, and you always get her. I'm trying to make sense out of everything." "Would you two stop playing whose more macho? Charlie is gone. We have to get her. Bucky, she married you. Steve, you had your chance, and it's over now. Let's get to work. Buck, call the raft. See if you can talk to him in any way that you can. We're looking for leads of the bases." With a nod, both super soldiers agree that now isn't the time to fight. Now is the time to save Charlie.

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Doctor Faustus rubs his thick fingers along Charlie's bump as two Hydra agents strap her into the machine. Charlie's head turns the opposite way of where his face is. Every move he makes to get closer to her face, she turns the other way. "Too bad you're too much of an asset right now. I could have fun with your little body." Charlie gags at the closeness of the large man. The clove smoke lingering too long in her mouth as he takes another drag.

"He'll kill you." She taunts him. When Bucky finds her, she knows that he will turn into a killing machine. He could single handedly take down every Hydra sleeper agent he finds with his fury.

"Maybe so. Aren't you curious as to why you're here?" Thick fingers continue rubbing along her stomach, dipping lower. He wants the woman to be uncomfortable. Wants her to suffer in any way that he can. "Because, Pierce was a sick fuck." Doctor Faustus laughs in her face. Squeezing her cheeks and jerking her face to look at him, "I was asked by the Power Broker to collect you. I did my job. Now maybe she'll reward me. You're already pregnant, can't taint you now." His hand drifts even lower, coming into coming with her covered mound, and there's nowhere for Charlie to go. "Who's the Power Broker?" Charlie tries to remain calm, getting as much information as possible. Although seeing how she's strapped into this machine, she assumes once she finds out, they'll strip her from the memory, but maybe, just maybe, she can bring them back like before.

Out of the shadows a blonde woman, clad in a black power suit emerges. "That's enough Faustus." His large body moves away from Charlie and she looks at the woman. "You bitch." She spits at Sharon Carter.

"Oh, Princess, why so hateful?" Sharon steps closer to Charlie, sneering down at her strapped into the chair.

"He'll find you, and take pleasure in torturing you, you know?" "Maybe...but the cameras are turned off for this. There will be no evidence of me being the power broker. You know this machine. You know what it does. I'll wipe you. We don't need your smart-ass personality intact. Just your womb." "Why? What the fuck did I ever do to you?" Every minute here, Charlie tries to make linger, hoping that soon her husband will come bounding in here, saving the day.

"Why? You want to know why? You had everything. You had everything first with Steve. And now you have everything with Bucky. Is that pussy lined in gold? What makes you so special? You were supposed to be a science experiment. Stuck in here, breeding for Hydra, and because some old man falls in love with you, you got to live the perfect life with Steve. And I was exiled to Madripor." "I don't love Steve like that." "Oh, I know. But you see Princess..." "Stop fucking calling me that." "It isn't just a pet name he gave you, it's your rightful title, isn't it? Is that why that pussy is so special goddess?" "Thor gave up the throne. It belongs to Valkyrie." "You could take it up at any moment." Sharon adds the mask to her face to become the twin of Charlie. "Thor knows that I don't want that title. I have no desire to rule over people that I don't even know. I want to be normal. I want a life with my husband and our kids." "Well, Charlotte, we don't always get what we want. Sorry to say, you're stuck here. Your body will be used as a breeding tool, once we get our hands on the soldier. You'll never be the mother to them. And when we find your daughter, she'll be here, too. Goodbye Princess of Asgard. Turn it up. She forgets I ever existed." Sharon walks away, her heels clicking down the hall. The cameras are clicked back on as soon as Sharon is out of frame, no evidence of her being the Power Broker. The agent turns the machine up and Charlie cries out to the empty room. Her screams bounce off the walls as the machine sucks out her memories. Thrashing her body around trying not to allow her most precious of memories to evaporate.

And then a bright blue white bubble erupts around Charlie's body, causing the screaming to stop immediately. Charlie calms down, panting. Remembering everything up until the point she was brought into this room. Staring at the bubble that surrounds her body, protecting her from the machine, she softly smiles realizing where it's coming from.

"What the fuck is that?" Doctor Faustus asks. "Did you fucking take her cuff off?" He asks the agent, even though she clearly has it on. Walking closer to the bubble he tries to penetrate into it, only to be shocked by lightening. "It's the fetus." His eyes stare at Charlie, and she only smiles at him. He laughs. "We've got us a winner. You think that bastard can hold this up forever, Princess? Protecting it's mommy."

Already Charlie feels the power of the bubble waning, "Turn off the machine." The agent listens. "Alright, Princess, it's off. Who's the Power Broker?" Charlie thinks and has no clue. Why is he even bringing this up? "I don't know." "Don't lie to me you fucking bitch. Who's the Power Broker?" "I don't know." The bubble falls and Charlie's head slumps forward, eyes closed.

"Good girl. Take her to her cell." Before the Hydra agents leave he grabs Charlie's face in between his hands, looking at her. "When that bastard is out of you, I'm going to have some fun." __________________________________________________________________

"Zemo, if you have any knowledge of where she is...please, I'm begging you." Bucky tries to not allow the tears to fall from his eyes as he talks through a camera to Zemo. The only reason he was allowed access on the Raft is because the Dora Milaje agreed, with them guarding him, and the fact that it was an issue of one of their own. Ross doesn't want Charlie to remain a prisoner of Hydra, he knows their plans for her.

"Do you think I wanted this for her? I know what losing a child does to a parent. I'm not Hydra, James." "I'm not saying you are. I'm asking for your help. You know Hydra bases. You've studied them. Studied their files. Where would they take her? It's Doctor Faustus that took her in." Zemo's head cocks to the side. "No, that's impossible. James, you need to hurry. He's cruel, more than Pierce. Your child is in danger. He would take her to the place this started."

Upon realizing that he would have taken her to the base that they were housed together he rushes off. Sam and Steve wait for him on the Quinjet. "We take no prisoners. They all die." "Bucky." Sam warns.

"It's Hydra Sam. You can't rehabilitate them. They tried with Zola, and look where it got us. Back to Hydra again. He took my wife and child to create weapons. They want to lure me back to create more weapons. No prisoners. How could I not realize they would want me there too? They want me to find her. Stay alert."

The trio stalk through the base. It is indeed working. "Whoever finds her, take her straight to the jet." Sam tells them through coms. Each men go through the doors, shooting, and stabbing whoever they come across. Bucky relentlessly breaks everyone's neck, wanting to feel their life fade away in his hands. They took her from him.

Steve nearly passes a dark room, but hears soft whispers, "I'm Charlotte Barnes. Married to Bucky Barnes. Mother of Maggie Rogers. I'm pregnant with Callan Barnes. I'm Charlotte Barnes. Married to Bucky Barnes..." "Charlie! Oh God, princess...it's me." Charlie continues whispering her mantra. Days after having her mind swiped, she feels memories slowly fading from her. Steve's hand cups her stomach, hoping he feels the tiny heartbeat flutter from Bucky's baby.

The moment his hand connects with her stomach a shock of electricity runs through his body, but he still softly presses against her stomach. He sighs when he feels the tiny heartbeat on the pads of his fingers. Her blank hazel eyes look at him, "Steve?" She whispers.

"Yes. It's me Charlie." "Charlie?" She asks, her chest heaves in panic.

"Yes. Charlie Barnes. I've got you. I'm going to take you to Bucky, princess." She nods her head at him, and he scoops her up bridal style. "I've got her, Buck. Walking to the jet." "You're not taking that bitch anywhere." Doctor Faustus screams down the hall. Bucky's body feels the vibrations from the deep bass voice. He's the one that tried to take her from him. He will kill her to keep Bucky from taking her home. His body instinctively runs in the direction his voice came from. Steve sets Charlie's body down and begins fighting Doctor Faustus. "She stays in Hydra Rogers." He yells at him. Charlie's body moves further down the hallway, cradling her stomach.

"Baby bean." She whispers, rubbing along her bump. She sees Bucky's figure behind Doctor Faustus who's distracted by Steve who's brutally attacking him from the front. Doctor Faustus isn't a fighter, but he's a large man. He kicks Steve to the ground at Charlie's feet, and Bucky wraps his cybernetic arm around his neck, squeezing as tightly as he can. Charlie watches as his face distorts, wanting to drain the life from Doctor Faustus. Doctor Faustus reaches behind him slinging the soldier's body on the floor and quickly points a gun at him.

"No! No! No!" Charlie's screams echo down the hallway. Ripping off the cuff that restricted her powers. Lightning bounds through her body, connecting at every appendage on Doctor Faustus. His body convulses as the lightening attacks him. Wrapping the electricity around every part of him. She wants him to feel the pain he lashed out on her. Bucky grabs his pistol, shooting him squarely in between the eyes. Once his body drops to the floor, Charlie's exhausted body collapses. A loud thud echoes through the hallway as her body reaches the floor.

Bucky runs over to his wife's body, caressing her bruised face. What have they done to my beautiful wife he thinks. Lifting her lifeless body up off the floor he looks over to Steve, a silent thanks lingers between them. "Sam? Everything okay?" Steve calls through coms as Bucky looks down at Charlie. If it wasn't for the bruising, she would almost look like she's sleeping.

"Yeah. That's all of them. Get back to the jet. She needs to get to Bruce."

The three men run through the base. Sam and Steve drop explosives every few feet, the base will crumble today and whoever else should remain in there. Bucky holds tightly to his girl. Tears roll down his eyes. He should have been there. This never would have happened. He's not even had the chance to feel for himself how the baby bean is doing.

When they return to the jet, Charlie's eyes slowly stir. "Oh, thank God." Bucky calls out. Her soft hazel eyes look up at him. Pure love for the soldier that holds her so tightly and yet so gently.

"James." She whispers up at him. He sits down, her still on his lap, caressing her face, and that's when he notices his flesh hand is covered in blood and it's not his. Looking around at her body he sees her pants are coated in the deep crimson.

"Charlie, no." He cries out. Unable to think of any words. "Steve?" When Steve catches glimpse of the deep stain he himself goes blank. He never wanted this. Sam steadily flies the jet towards the compound.

"Banner, we need immediate medical attention. She's...there's a lot of blood." "James...I'm cold." Her tiny body shivers in his arms.

"I know, doll. I've got you. Feel my warmth." His flesh hand makes contact with her bump. Rubbing gently on it. "I've got you too baby bean. I need you to be strong for mommy." As calm as his voice is tears steadily flow down his face, leaving trails along his dirty skin. "Charlie, keep your eyes open, honey. I need you to stay awake, okay?" She nods her head. "I'm scared." She cries. "Is Maggie...?" "She's safe, doll. Now let's get you safe, okay?" Again, a small nod. Their eyes never leave one another. His sapphire eyes make her feel safe.

"I'm Charlie Barnes. Married to Bucky Barnes. Mother to Maggie Rogers. Pregnant with Callan Barnes." Charlie softly recites her mantra. Feeling memories seep away from her.

Bucky's breathing hitches staring at his scared wife. "That's right honey. I'm not going anywhere." "Bad things happen when we're apart, James." Slowly her eyes begin to close.

"Charlie, no. You keep your eyes open. Don't close...fuck...how much longer?" Panicking he checks her pulse. It still beats at its normal pace.

"Two minutes, Buck. Banner, landing." "Steve? I can't...I can't do this without her." His eyes finally meet his best friend's. Steve sees the fear that he has at the thought of losing Charlie. "I need her. I can't...I don't want to do this without her." "She's going to be okay."

As soon as the back opens Bucky carries his sleeping wife down the ramp. Bruce releases an "Oh God." from his lips as he sees the deep red stain on Charlie, a trail of blood dripping down Bucky's arm. Not protesting when Bucky carries her to the exam table. He allows the super soldier to stay in there with him as he tests her vitals, hooking up to machines, grabbing up an ultrasound wand to check the baby once he's sure she's stable. Sam and Steve stand outside the room while Bucky stares in horror at the monitor. Hearing his son's heartbeat clear and strong.

"I don't understand." Bruce whispers. "I need her pants removed." Almost like a ballet dance, Bucky's lithe fingers pull down the fabric. Bruce lays a blanket over her and Bucky removes her underwear. "Help me get her legs in the stirrups Bucky." Bucky smoothly helps the doctor adjust her body, and he examines her. "Everything is normal. There's some damage to her cervix. What happened?" "I don't know. S-she used her powers...but...she was reciting her name, my name, and the kids' names. They had to have wiped her brain." Bruce looks at Bucky, not in pity but worry. "Both Charlie and the baby are perfectly healthy. That's a good thing. When did you notice the blood?"

"On the jet." He looks over to Steve who walks in the room.

"I was carrying her, too. I don't have blood on me. So, it had to have been after." Bruce nods his head.

"Well, she stays here. You guys should wash up." Bucky grabs a chair and moves it to beside Charlie's bed, wrapping a hand in hers, and another on her bump as tears stream down his face. "I'll bring you some clean clothes, Bucky. You can wash up here." Bucky just nods his head, never looking away from his comatose wife.

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"Were you able to secure the files?" Steve asks Sam. Sam had a mission to retrieve any files he could from the base before the trio detonated the explosives.

"I did. You ready? He's not going anywhere." The pair watch as Doctor Faustus takes pleasure in having his goons smack Charlie around. Never hitting her stomach. Watching as he touches her. If he wasn't already dead, Bucky would take pleasure in slowly killing him. They watch horrified as they use the machine to wipe her memories. And then their eyes light up when they see the bubble expand over Charlie, halting the process. "He...the baby did that...do you think that's what damaged her cervix? The baby, protected her." The pair look at one another. "Call Thor. Did someone get in touch with the Bartons? Get Pepper and Morgan here. Maggie needs a mother right now. I'm about to bring her to see Charlie." "Steve...are you sure that's a good idea?" Sam looks at him.

"What if...what if, this is the last time she gets...?" He can't finish the sentences. Horrified that he insinuates Charlie won't make it through. Sam only nods.

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Steve and Pepper lead Maggie to Charlie's room. Bucky still sits solemnly by her side. Rubbing her hand and stomach, saying silent prayers to whoever will listen. "Mommy." The child rasps out. "Is she going to be, okay?" She looks up at the adults, only Pepper returns her gaze. "Will you hold me to her?" She asks Pepper. Pepper nods and carries the child to her, leaning over so she can press her hand up against her cheek. "She's dreaming. She's happy."

Bucky overcome with grief sobs. His mouth twists around as he stares at his lifeless wife. But she's dreaming and she's happy. Maggie wiggles out of Pepper's arms and over to the crying soldier. His eyes can't meet hers, but she crawls in his lap, arms tightly wrapped around his neck as she casts her dreams into his mind. He sees him and his wife happily looking at their newborn, Maggie being held by Bucky as they all three stare at the sleeping bundle. Nothing but happiness, and Bucky loses it again. Shaking uncontrollably as the small girl holds him tightly. "Mommy loves you. And you love her." Similar to the first words the child ever said to him.

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"Somebody will pay for this! Fools!" Thor shouts walking into the compound. Sam is able to stop the god.

"Thor, everyone's emotions are high right now. Bucky is barely holding it together. So, if you go see her, you cannot be shouting. If you're not going down there to offer any form of support or comfort, I will not allow you to see her." Sam has made it his personal mission to keep a mute Bucky from having a breakdown. He doesn't eat and doesn't sleep. Just touches his doll. Sometimes whispering kisses against her face.

"Tell the soldier to leave so I can see her then." Thor stands up straighter.

"Absolutely not. He's staying right by her side. So, change your attitude or you will not be granted access to her room." Mantis, Nebula, Drax, Quill, and Rocket all stand to the side. Mantis raises her hand towards Sam. "You can go." He points at her, knowing that she can allow Bucky some peace, and maybe help Charlie wake up. "Rocket, can you talk with Maggie? Keep her busy and occupied." He nods and walks towards her room. Sam hopes that any form of talk can keep the girl busy.

"Fine, Wilson. I won't shout. I will be calm." Sam isn't convinced, since Thor speaks through his teeth.

"When Mantis returns, she can calm you before you go and see her."

When she returns, shaking her head that she couldn't help Charlie, and Bucky refused any help. "Calm Thor, so he can go see her." She uses her empathy powers to calm Thor and remove his anger. Still untrusting of the god, Sam and Steve lead him to Charlie's room.

When he sees the small girl laying on the bed lifeless, he's overcome with grief. He walks over to the opposite of where Bucky is, softly rubbing the back of his hands on her cheeks. He looks down at her growing bump. Charlie is already halfway through her pregnancy, and he never got to see this side of her pregnancy. Tears slowly drip down his face. He looks at Bucky before placing his hand on her bump.

"Ah...he is a strong one. Rogers said you protected your mother little one. Now help her rest, continue to protect her. We need her here." Every ounce of Thor wants to come undone, but he sees how broken his daughter's husband is. Slapping a strong hand on his shoulder. "She's a fighter Barnes. It will take a lot to keep her down." Bucky's eyes still never leave his wife's face. His fingers trail around the perimeter of her face, tracing every feature and outline. Memorizing her face like she always done with him. Don't take her from me, he thinks to himself. I need her. ___________________________________________________________________

Pepper uses a wet towel to wash around Charlie's hairline, stealing glances at a frozen and mute Bucky, "She's going to be okay. Her vitals and the baby's are perfect." Offering a gentle kiss to her temple. "We need you to wake up, Charlie. Your husband and kids need you." She whispers before standing. Placing a calming hand on Bucky's shoulder she walks out and allows tears to fall down her own face. "Please, Tony, don't take her away from me too." She whispers in the hall.

___________________________________________________________________

Clint leads Laura to Charlie's bedside. Laura can hardly look at her, because she's overcome with a need to comfort Bucky. Walking over to his side she hugs him, crying onto his shoulder. Clint softly runs his finger on her cheek. "Kiddo, you can quit playing opossum. Anytime now, I know you're going to wake up, laughing and tell me you got me. Please, Charlie." Him and Charlie have always had a joking manner towards one another, but she doesn't stir. Just lays peacefully on her bed.

___________________________________________________________________

Steve continues watching everyone come and go from the room. Two weeks of no improvement in Charlie has him frantic. The only constant being his two friends. Bucky's eyes never meet anyone's, fearing that if he looks away from Charlie for one second something bad will happen. Bad things happen when they're apart. Overcome with guilt Steve leaves the compound, speeding to the small apartment that got them into this mess.

"Tell me this isn't how it ends. Tell me, she's okay." "I can't tell you that, son." Calmly the old man watches his younger self pace around the small living room.

"You warned me that something was going to happen. So, you knew. Now tell me she's okay."

"I can't tell you that because it's different every time. Depending on your actions and manipulations throughout the time with her." The blonde stares at the man. Is this a warning to quit changing the timeline? Because in the end it's always her and Bucky.

"Does she ever die?" The old man nods a yes. "What happens to him? To the baby?" "They die with her." For once the old man shows emotions. A single tear streams down his face. "He can't do it without her. He withers away. Not eating. Not drinking. Until his grief consumes him and he dies from a broken heart. I told you, son. It's always them. You can't change it. You've tried hundreds of times before. The only different outcome is whether she lives or dies. Do you not want them to live a happy life?" "Yes." He whispers.

"Then let her go. This timeline can get worse every loop. It hurts more every time she dies. I promise you it's not easy letting her go. But she belongs to him. Let her go."

Weeping the blonde looks at the old man. "Letting her go doesn't mean you quit loving her. It means that you love her the way you were intended to love her. It means you're giving her your blessing. Bucky's too. Do you not want that for them?" "Yes."

"Then what do you need to do?" The old man nearly begs him. "It'll be lonely the rest of my life if I can't see their baby. Hold my daughter again." "I let her go." He cries. "I'm going to let her go, because she belongs to Bucky. That's his girl." He screams up at the ceiling. Whoever should listen. "I'm letting you go Charlie." He whispers. Hoping beyond anything that whoever is control of this timeline hears his plea. Don't let her die.

___________________________________________________________________

Bucky and Charlie are alone for the first time today. He takes comfort in the steady beating of the machines, the drone of his baby's heartbeat. They're his only comfort. Charlie's bruises still aren't healed. Scrapes and cuts pattern her skin. A few handprint and fingerprint bruises on her arms. He was too easy on them. They should have suffered a long death. His fingers brush against the soft skin of her cheek. "Please wake up doll. I need you." He whispers for the first time in two weeks. "I need you in my life. I can't do it without you. Barely holding on as it is." "Then maybe you should eat something." A small croak of a voice calls out. He eyes go to her face. He was imagining it. "How's the baby bean." A weak smile pulls up her lips.

"Charlie?" "Yes, babe?" Her eyes try and pry themselves open. Looking at her husband. Feeling like she's seeing him for the first time.

"Please, tell me I'm not dreaming." Bucky is still in disbelief as he watches his wife. Absentmindedly his hand rubs on the nest of their growing boy.

"I'm here, babe. What happened?" "You've been asleep for two weeks." He cries down at her. For the first time in two weeks, she returns his touches. Cupping his cheek, she peers up at the love of her life. Bucky leans into her touch, not realizing how touch starved he was for her.

Her other hand cradles her stomach, he lays his metal hand on top of hers. "How's the baby?"

"He is okay, doll. He has powers. Sam said he protected you from the machine. They were going to take everything away from you."

"I remember. Can you hold me, James?" Her body scoots over on the bed and without hesitation the large super soldier crawls in the bed, holding her and vowing to never let her go. Bad things happen when they're apart.

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#marvel #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers #old man steve #the winter soldier #the white wolf #marvel timeline #blood warning

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter one: welcome home

chapter one of book four, mind you~

i decided to post it now because why the hell not?

"out on the wily, windy moors, we'd roll and fall in green. you had a temper like my jealousy, too hot, too greedy. how could you leave me when i needed to possess you? i hated you, i loved you, too." -"wuthering heights", kate bush

Marla closed the hatch at the back of her rental car, and she turned to Sam. The hot California sun beat down on both of their heads. The trees were already changing from healthy green to an autumnal yellow despite it being the middle of summer. The soil underneath them and the low sparsely forested foothills around them yearned for rain, and she kept her gaze fixated on the glass front door up the walkway from her.

It felt like forever since Sam had been to Lake Elsinore and what better way than to genuinely live by the lake as she began her senior project. Everything was as dry as a bone, and Marla's own caress upon her upper arms meant that the dryness would in fact persist throughout. Sam tucked her free hand into one pocket and she could feel the edge of the paper against her skin.

“God, I know it's hot but I feel it getting cold soon, though,” Marla confessed.

“That's the West Coast for you,” Sam told her. “The assumption is always one of 'oh, it's always so hot in California—surprised it doesn't catch fire more.' But it's actually cold and dry here, though. It's not like New York where you guys have the lakes and the Gulf Stream nearby.”

“By the way, did you tell Aurora?” Marla asked her.

“I did,” Sam replied, but she realized that she never did tell Aurora that she was going out to California over the summer, especially since she was due to give birth to her baby any day at that point. She never told her when she would be coming back, either. That is if she ever came back. Bill still never elaborated on what she was to do out there in the Golden State, even on the flight over from New York. If anything, he was awful quiet the whole way, especially with Marla right next to her on in that single row of seats.

Marla herself meanwhile had kept the black hair from the winter months, however she changed the electric blue streak to one of electric pink, and she added a second streak on the opposite side of her head as well. She tucked a single strand behind her ear right then.

“I can't believe you're actually here,” she confessed.

“I can't, either,” Sam said with a raise of her eyebrows. “But the boys are all up the road, though. If I find the time, I'll drive up there and at the very least visit Cliff.”

“That's definitely a must. Your couch is still stashed at my apartment, by the way. You know, when you moved in with me, you had to stash that thing. I might just keep it.”

“Hey, it's a comfy couch, you might as well. And I might be back come Christmas, who knows?”

“Miss Shelley?” Bill called from the front door right then. Sam raised her eyebrows at him.

“What's up?” she called out to him. He hurried out of the front door with something flat tucked underneath his arm.

“Hey, that's right, yeah,” Marla said with a nod.

“I don't know why I keep thinking it's going to be like forever,” Sam confessed, “I think it's the whole 'pick up and move across the country' kinda thing, to be honest.”

“I think it is, too,” Marla agreed, “going that far and being far away this whole entire time, you get kind of final in your thoughts.” He skidded to a stop before them as the words left her lips. He clicked a pen and showed Sam the clipboard with a blank white sheet of paper upon it.

“What's this?” she asked him.

“I'm gonna need you to sign this,” he told her as he pointed at the line underneath the edge of the blank paper. “It's an agreement to show that you are in fact out here with me.”

“Why didn't we do this before we left, though?” she asked him with a frown.

“I just forgot,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “It's okay, though—I have a fax machine inside. I can send it off to the school with ease!”

Sam glanced over at Marla, whose face fell and she fetched up a sigh through her nose all the while. She then nibbled on her bottom lip out of fretting. But on the other hand, she was back in Lake Elsinore and within range of the Los Angeles area if she so wished. She had lived here before. She was a day's drive from the San Francisco Bay Area, and a day's drive from her parents' house.

She could still taste Joey on her lips. The tears in those brown eyes. The feeling of his soft slender little body against her own. He vowed to call her, as long as she got to call him first by the time she had been settled in with Bill there at the house.

All of her art supplies with her. All of her clothes with her. She could still feel Zelda's embrace as well. She didn't want to leave it behind her, but she was sure that it was only for that year. A year felt like forever in those terms however.

But she signed on the dotted regardless of her fears and her reluctance.

No sooner had she added a little loop at the bottom of the “y” in her last name of Shelley when he lifted the page for her again.

“And there,” he said with a point to the bottom of the page. Sam sighed through her nose and she did it right then and there. Marla sniffled but Sam knew it was from the dryness all around them.

“Excellent!” he declared and he returned to the house with the clipboard tucked under his arm. Sam and Marla glanced at one another; the former noticed the look of bewilderment upon her face.

“What's the matter?” Sam asked her, to which Marla leaned closer to her face so they could keep it between the both of them.

“There was just something off about that,” she replied. “Don't you think so?”

“How so?”

“I dunno. Just—kind of—off. Like something about that didn't sit too well with me.”

“Come inside and make yourselves at home,” Bill called from the front door again.

“In my case, for the time being,” Marla added as the two of them walked on inside of the spacious foyer; to the right stood a carpeted stairwell which led up to the second and third floors up above. Before them was the foyer which led to the kitchen and to the left stood the vast but warm lit dining room with a long table. Bill himself had gone off somewhere inside of that house.

“This place is like a mansion,” Sam noted.

“Yeah. Definitely not something you see on a teacher's salary, either. Especially an adjunct collegiate professor, too.” Marla looked over at her again. “See what I mean when I say there's just something off about this whole thing?”

“Sort of. We'll have to see more of it soon enough to come to a conclusion, though.”

Bill then returned to the two of them with a glass of dark liquid in each hand.

“Iced tea for my guest and—my mentee,” he declared. He then ran his fingers through his blond hair and his face lit up. “By the way, did you get those letters of recommendation signed and sealed, Marla?”

“Yeah...” she replied with a bit of hesitance. “Belinda and I got it all done in like April, two months early.” He turned his attention to the small table right next to him, and she chuckled right then. “It was funny. We were sitting in the library doing the rest of them and she was like 'I dunno if I can do the rest of these joint, Marla.' And I was like, 'don't tell you haven't written letters of recommendation before, Bel!' And she goes, 'I have, just not with another person.' And I told her, 'well, it's not like we're screwing each other, Bel—just gotta write them up real quick by the template. Nothing to it.' Took us all day, but still!”

Sam chuckled at that, but Bill was silent the whole entire time she talked about that. Instead, he kept his attention fixed on the sheet of paper under his fingers.

“So you looking over what I have to do while I'm out here?” Sam asked him as she sipped on her iced tea.

“Yeah—quite a bit you have to do.”

“Well, can I at least see it?”

“Not with Marla here,” he pointed out with a raise of his head, to which Sam frowned at that.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I told her about my senior project when it was going down this past school year,” Marla recalled, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Seriously.”

“Yeah. What's—what's wrong with that?”

He nibbled on his bottom lip, curt.

“When does your flight leave, Marla?”

“Well, I was thinking of getting Sam settled in here and then taking her out to dinner down the hill.”

“There's hardly any time for that,” he said with a straight face.

“Yes, there is.”

“Yeah, she's taking the red eye, Bill,” Sam assured him. “It's gonna be fine.”

“You're not working, are you?” he asked Marla with a slight raise of an eyebrow. She knitted her eyebrows together at that.

“Why does that matter?”

“You don't have any money.”

“I have some. Not a lot. I'm expecting my grant some time this week which will cover my rent. And I am looking for a job, too.” Marla gaped at him. “You—do realize this, right? Like, I'm not a free loader, right?”

“Never said you were,” he pointed out.

“But you're implying it, though,” Marla pointed out.

“Oh, Miss Taylor, you couldn't be further from the truth.”

“No, that's exactly what you're implying here. You see me here with Sam like I'm some kind of free loader. Well, I'm here to help her move in with you.”

“Once again, you couldn't be further from the truth. She's not moving in with me—she's staying here with me.”

“Yes, she's moving in with you!” Marla insisted.

“Don't miss that flight,” he told her in a singsong tone.

Sam and Marla glanced at one another, puzzled. “What flight?” the former asked him.

“The next one. Before we left the airport, I noticed that the next one to New York leaves in about one hour. You want to find work, don't you, Miss Taylor?”

“Well, yeah. But I still want to help her, though. And there will be more flights, too. I hope.”

“Yeah, I don't think there's a red eye tonight.” He showed her a thin lipped smile, and Marla shifted her weight in that spot on the floor. Sam looked over at her with her mouth slightly parted. Without another moment's hesitation, Marla drank down the iced tea in four large gulps. She lowered the glass and showed her tongue to Sam. The grimace on Marla's face made her realize that the iced tea was terrible.

“Don't miss that flight,” he told her in a singsong tone. Marla then turned to Sam with tears in her eyes. This whole entire time, she believed that Aurora was her best friend, but Marla had taken that crown from her in the past several months as they moved in together and attended school together. She even helped her dye her hair! Marla threw her arms around her and held her close. Sam had her chin rested upon her shoulder, just like how she embraced Joey.

Marla held back a bit to say something right into her ear.

“If you need anything at all, call me,” she said to her in a low voice, “or Bel. We can't do much—especially her because she went up to Albany last week—but we both can be shoulders to cry on, though.”

“Or Zelda,” Sam suggested.

“Oh, yeah, Zelda will definitely be happy to hear your voice. Anything at all. Rain or shine, day or night, doesn't matter. Call one of us if you need anything at all.”

“Okay.” Marla embraced her again.

“I love you,” she whispered into her ear.

“I love you, too,” Sam whispered back.

Marla squeezed her a little bit before she let her go and then she walked on out of there. The last time Sam would be seeing Marla and that pink stripe upon her head; indeed, Sam sniffled and she brushed away a tear as Marla climbed into the rental car. She stood there in the doorway to see her off; before she started up the car, Marla turned her head into her direction and formed a heart shape with both hands over her chest. Sam set her glass of iced tea down on the floor next to her feet and she returned the favor: even from the doorway, she could see the tears in her friend's eyes.

She wasn't ready to let her go as of yet. But Marla returned to the steering wheel and she started up the car.

Sam saw her off up the street, and she even stayed there for a couple more minutes after Marla turned the corner and disappeared behind the trees.

A brand new chapter, at least for the time being. Sam knew she would be back in New York some day. When that some day came was another question, however.

“Alright, Miss Shelley,” Bill started, still in a curt tone. She fetched up another sigh and she picked up the glass of iced tea from the floor, and she took a sip from it. She winced at the overly sweet taste and the fact that he hadn't used fresh tea at all. The pale, washed out beige color was right in her face after all.

Sam turned around and there, on either side of Bill, stood two little girls. The same two little towheaded blonde twin girls she remembered from that photograph in his office back at the school. The girl on the right had a big blue ribbon bow that tied up her blonde hair upon the crown of her head, while the one on the left had a birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on her cheek.

“Oh!” she said as she held the glass closer to her chest.

“Yes.” He set a hand on either of their shoulders.

“You must be Matilda and Cassandra,” she started in a friendly tone.

“Mattie and Cassie,” he corrected her. “Mattie to the right here with the bow in her hair, and Cassie to the left with the birthmark on her face.”

“Mattie and Cassie, pardon me,” she said.

“Are you our mommy now?” Mattie asked her with her finger up to her lip.

Sam stopped.

“Why would I be your mommy?” she asked her, confused.

“Daddy said he was bringing home a new mommy,” Mattie replied, and Sam knitted her eyebrows together at that.

And then it dawned on her. Marla's hunches were right. She looked up at Bill, who never changed his expression from a cold smile. Sam shook her head.

“While you are out here with me,” he began in a low voice, “you must help me raise these two girls given their birth mother is not around. You must pose as my new wife.”

“Wait. You're telling me—part of the assignment is to feign marriage? That sounds so illegal.”

“It actually isn't. And it's not part of the assignment, either—this is what it is. Remember part of the paperwork I made you sign when we first got here? The one that was tucked under that piece of paper as you were conversing with Marla?”

“Those two pieces of paper on the clipboard? Those two thing you made me sign while—she and I were talking—and when we first got here?” Sam gaped at him. He had duped her, and now she was out there in California, with no escape. She was now responsible for raising Matilda and Cassandra alongside him.

She should have listened to those gut feelings while he told her about it in his office back in New York. She should have listened to her own intuition, in how the whole thing left her unsettled.

“What're you going to do for the school, though?” she demanded. “What're you going to do for money?”

“I was in an adjunct position, Miss Shelley,” he explained, “those positions are expendable and that school is understaffed, too. When they're abandoned, they find a way to fill it in. As for money—don't worry about it. I'm still on the payroll there and have been, even after they—fired—me. They are so incompetent that they didn't even take me off the payroll.” That word of which he mouthed.

She balled her free hand into a fist, but it was apparent that he didn't care. Not even in the very least. And this was a side to him that she hadn't seen before, at least not when she was at the school. Or perhaps it was because every time she saw him took place at the school, thus he had to hide this side to him.

“Welcome home,” he told her with a cold smile and a sinister tone to his voice. She grimaced at that as he stepped out of there and into the hallway. “Your room is upstairs, remember. By the way.”

Sam fumed at him as he led those two girls out of there. She had no clue who she was more furious at, herself for having fallen into his trap, or Bill for being so insidious with it all. But the only thing she could do was go up to the loft on the third floor, where Marla had helped move her things to.

She turned to the stairwell beneath her and she looked down at the glass of awful iced tea. Silence downstairs, which meant he wouldn't hear her.

“You—fucking asshole,” she blurted out. “You fucking scumbag! You mother fucker!” She chucked the glass down to the bottom of the stairs and it shattered against the wall, right next to his room no less. He was out of range at that point, and all Sam could do was drop down to the edge of the bed with her face buried in her hands.

She wasn't ready to be married yet, not with Joey not knowing about it. She lay back on the bed when the tears welled up even more. He had fooled her. He had fooled her!

She left everything behind only for him to fool her into it!

And indeed, those finalistic thoughts weren't so finalistic after all. She was officially married to him, and Matilda and Cassandra were her stepdaughters from that point onward. Nothing she could do about it at that point.

She rolled over onto her side and buried her face into the top cover on the bed. She didn't want to be seen, even with Bill out of the room.

* * * * *

And thus, she found herself at the shore of the small lake before her, and she wondered where things had gone wrong. The glassy waters were nothing like the lake north of Syracuse, or one of the Finger Lakes for that matter.

The whole ordeal left her mind a complete mess. Her heart torn into separate pieces. She came to the conclusion that those three years in which she lived in New York were her perceived peak. Never going back to those days ever again after this.

She wanted Joey but she also wanted Alex, especially with her being so close to the San Francisco Bay Area at that point. But at the same time, she couldn't entirely put the blame on Bill. He wanted her out there for a reason and her studious nature at school and the fact she always came like clockwork made her appeal to him in the vein of a mother. If anything, it was her fault that she didn't ask more questions.

But also at the same time, however, he led her into it all. He led her on. He made her believe that those two girls were in good hands with their birth mother, but apparently, he had better things to do for himself. She gazed on at the photographs of Joey and Alex in her fingers.

“So much for standing up for myself,” she muttered as she gazed on at their faces nestled in between her fingers. “I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get out of here and figure out how to null it.”

She was alone at that point, anyway, which meant she could in fact call Marla. The inspiration had run dry a bit on that hot afternoon anyway; thus she closed her journal and she climbed off of the rock and began back up the pathway to the house. One of the things she had up in her room was a large bookcase, and one of the books on the shelves was Wuthering Heights. She would have to read that book at some point in the future, or perhaps she could do it that evening after she made the phone call back to the apartment in Hell's Kitchen.

“What the—actual fuck,” Marla sputtered; Sam could hear the fury in her voice. “What do you mean you're legally married to him?”

“I'm legally married to him,” Sam said in a low voice as she sat there on the edge of her bed with the cordless in her ear. “Remember those two things he made me sign when you and I were out on the sidewalk?”

“Yeah?”

“The first thing was a nuptial agreement. The other thing I signed was a prenup, too, because—this is a big house and he's got his fingers in some pies, too. Because I'm here with nothing now.” She folded her right arm across her chest and sighed through her nose. “You were right, Marla. There was something off about the whole thing. The big house, the hidden papers he made me sign... it was all in plain sight, really. Like that—fucking trash iced tea he made for us.”

“Well, if I'm honest, here was nothing we could do at that point, though. We were already there and you've really got no way back, either, especially now. And yeah, that iced tea was horrible. Probably the worst I've ever had in my life.”

“How's Bel doing?” Sam asked.

“She's loving Albany right now. She told me she could probably get me a job up there, but—who knows, really. And I don't really want to leave Hell's Kitchen, you know? I was born here and I grew up here. For me, a city girl, to be upstate, even with my other best friend—it just—it's hard.”

“Right, right. It'd be cool, though. You know I was wanting an escape from New York for a bit, but sometimes a mere change of pace is all you need. It's why I was so eager to leave the Bronx and move in with you in Hell's Kitchen.”

“And New York's a big city, too. If you can't find something here, something is wrong.”

Sam glanced down at the floor boards underneath her. She knew that those mountains got cold in the winter time, and the cold would come for them soon enough: she foresaw those bare wooden boards feeling as cold as ice at some point during those months.

“Genie misses you, by the way,” Marla told her.

“God, I miss her, too. How's she doing?”

“She's right here next to me on the couch getting pets. She's also purring, like loudly. You know, that big loud contented purr she likes to do with us. Last night, she curled up behind my legs and never moved at all. It wasn't even that cold last night, either.”

Sam sighed through her nose. All those days in which the two of them returned home and Genie always ran up to them with a loud contented purr from inside of her throat, and her black fur as soft as ever. She always seemed to get softer with each and every day they both stepped through the door.

“Also, Aurora finally—literally finally—gave birth to her babies,” Marla added with a clearing of her throat.

“Wait.” Sam stopped right in her tracks and she shuffled her feet right underneath her at the sound of that. “Babies? Babies, are you serious? She had more than one?”

“Yeah, twins. Two girls—half Korean half—whatever the hell Emile is. I forget their names, though, like Aurora told me this morning but I wasn't properly paying attention. I kept thinking, you know—it's about time. Really, it's about time, too, she was getting massive that last week, and they were big, too. And this whole entire time I thought she was due in the middle of June, but the dumb idiot Emile was about a month off. Can't even do math right.”

“Oh, my god!” Sam brought a hand to her mouth.

“Yeah, I took a Polaroid of her literally moments before her water broke. She posed for me and it looked like she ate two of the biggest watermelons you could find at the supermarket. She was huge, Sam. Just gargantuan. If and when I get to see you again, I'll show you because I told Frankie about it, because they hadn't seen her in months, either. And he was like 'no way!' I went to their place just the other day to see how things were going and it's absolute chaos over there, like I left after not even five minutes. Neither of them were prepared for a family of four. And they want more, too! She told me she loves being pregnant and she can't wait to get knocked up again and again. It's just crazy.”

She chuckled and then she fell silent again for a moment. Sam knew what was on her mind right then.

“I have no idea what I'm going to do, Sam,” she confessed to her in a near whisper. “I mean, it's barely August, and I finally got my grant in the mail, too. But I'm sure you know. Grants don't last forever.”

“Oh, yeah, and school's about to start again soon, too. Did you find a job, though?”

“Not yet. Like I said Bel might find me something but I'm not holding my breath, though. I might just go work at the school, who knows, really.”

And then Sam remembered what he told her. “Yes, go work at the school and tell someone that Bill doesn't work there anymore. If nothing, take his place so he loses money.”

“I'd have to get my teaching credential, though.”

“Yes, but they're understaffed, though. If they lack people, they've got to take you. At least that's what he told me about adjunct positions. He also got fired some time ago but stayed on the payroll. I'm guessing he just saved like hell and he was able to afford this house and why he made me sign a prenup, too. If you go to work there, maybe you can point it out to someone there. Like 'hey, Bill hasn't worked here in some time, why is he still on the payroll?' And you can not only go to work there but you can inadvertently take his money, too.”

Marla fell silent again, and that time for a whole entire minute.

“Are you there, Marla?” Sam asked in a small voice.

“Never left,” Marla replied. “I'm putting my shoes on. I will run down there if I have to.”

Sam held the cordless in between her shoulder and the side of her face, and she clapped her hands at that.

“Oh, my god, thank you so much!”

“Hey, you're my best friend, my roommate, and my fellow artist. At this point in our friendship, Sam, I will literally take a bullet for you. And—I'm a New York girl to boot, too. I'm not gonna let any slippery mother fucker screw over you like that.”

Sam clasped a hand to her brow and she pinched her eyes shut to hold back the tears of joy. To think it wasn't that long ago she wanted Charlie for herself out of spite to Marla, but now her support of her fellow female artists had come to fruition even more so now than ever.

“But wait, isn't the school closed, though?” Sam stopped right then.

“Not today, no. It's Monday. Campus closes at eight and it's five thirty right now. It's almost dinner time for most of the counselors there so I gotta hustle.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right. And Matilda and Cassandra started elementary school already.”

“Shit. Started school right in the middle of summer, that sucks. When we were in school, Bel and I didn't even start until around Labor Day.”

“Yeah, me, too. Oh, and by the sound of it, he's using those girls, too. For all I know, they haven't even seen their mom. Like right after you left, they came out and had this blank look on their face like they were spooked.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Marla groaned, and a soft rustling emerged on her end. “Yeah, I'm gonna get my ass down there right now.”

“Thank you, Marla. Thank you so much!”

“Talk to you soon—” Marla vowed, and then she hung up right there. Sam wiped away another tear from her eye. As long as Joey didn't find out about this, then she would be fine. She pictured Marla running as fast as she could down the block to the school, with her jet black hair streamed behind her, that pink stripe strong and high to indicate her speed. She pictured her catching someone at the door as well; even though Bill had nudged her a bit there at the house the other day, she knew that Marla could convince someone there. Belinda persisted with stained glass, even though it fell through with Sam, but she persisted anyway.

These New York girls knew how to get it done when it came to a good friend.

She bowed her head and sighed through her nose.

She didn't feel like drawing. Even though there wasn't hardly anything to eat in the pantry downstairs, she was hungry. But if nothing more, she had to head into town for a quick errand to the supermarket about three blocks from there. She knew she had to make a call to Eric and Testament's fan club to say that she had changed addresses, but first things were first however.

She then remembered that they had put out that new album, The New Order, back in the beginning of May, and he announced it to her on her birthday as well. She thought about how Aurora made Alex's birthday all about herself all the while. That felt different to her however, because Eric announced the album to her for being a loyal part of their fan club. Aurora's announcement came with everyone crowding around her while Alex ate his cake right there next to her.

She slipped on her shoes, and picked up her purse, and headed back outside to the California sun as it dried out the trees and everything else around her even more. It was warm but at least the heat waves had held off for the time being. Her dark hair waved behind her head in the gentle breeze; even though it could be far worse with the warmth, the sun's intense rays bore down upon the side of her head and her shoulder to where she swore she dried out with the pines around her.

And she knew that she had to hurry back home soon enough in time for Mattie and Cassie to return home. She figured it would be best to grab some snacks for those girls along the way as she stepped into the cool market: she had technically become their mom now, after all.

She found herself a bottle of lemonade and a pre-wrapped sandwich from the freezer, and two bags of chips from the rack, all for her. She knew that she would be up for another dismal dinner with Bill at the helm of the table, but she hadn't eaten since the girls left for school that morning.

Sam finally fetched a basket from the front of the market given she was finding so much food already, for herself and for the two of them. He could starve for all she cared, especially since Marla was about to take his money in the most roundabout way possible. She returned to the snack aisle at the far end there, and at the far end stood a tall man with long wavy black hair down to his waist. He had a fresh tattoo of a spider web and another one of a skull on his left shoulder, but she recognized him from the far end of the aisle as he looked on at all the chips and the jars of salsa. After her experience with Stormtroopers of Death and Anthrax, she knew that when an album dropped, they headed out on tour in order to promote it, so to see him there felt like a dream of sorts.

“Chuck?” she said aloud, and he lifted his head and turned in the opposite direction to the coolers on the far wall there.

He then turned to her with a puzzled look on his face.

“Hey, Chuck!” Sam called out, and he wheeled around for a look back at her. He nodded at her and flashed her a smile. She hurried over to him and he extended an arm to her.

“Hey, there's our girl,” he declared as she came within earshot. “Little Sammich.” She put both arms around him.

“What's going on?” she asked him with a peer up into his face. “I thought you guys were on tour!”

“We're on break right now,” he explained. “We go back out in a couple of weeks with our pals from Overkill, though.” His expression then turned serious. “You have a different address now, that's right.”

“Yeah.”

“You got anything to write on? I'll run it by Eric when I see him in a bit.”

“Not on me right at the moment, no. I just came here for some things real quick.”

“Do you have anything to write with?” he asked her.

“Yes! I have a couple of pens in my purse.”

“Okay. When we get up front, I'll find something to write on.” He turned his attention to the jars of salsa on the shelf behind her. “What salsa do you think I should get? The one with corn and black beans, or the straight up tomato?”

“Corn and black beans. Sounds heartier.”

“Agreed.” He nodded at her and took a jar off of the shelf, and she giggled.

“What?”

“You just look funny taking salsa off of the shelf there and asking me about it.”

“Why? 'Cause of the tattoos and the hair?” Chuck ran his fingers through his wavy hair at that and showed her a little smile, complete with little apple cheeks as well. Sam kept on giggling at that, and then he led her back to the front of the market.

“Are you done, by the way?” he asked her.

“Um—” She turned to the shelf at the end there, and she took a couple of bags of cheese crackers for the girls. She had no idea what those girls liked, but it was a start from that point onward.

“Okay,” she said, and that brought a laugh out of him. They reached the first line and Chuck stepped back and put out one arm to beckon her in first.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Gentleman,” she told him, and she began to check out there in front of him. Once she had it all paid for with some of what money she had in her wallet, she stepped off to the side and awaited him at the wall. The sun beat down on the back of her head and she knew that school had to be out at any given moment.

“By the way, you got a couple of pieces of paper nearby?” Chuck asked the fluffy haired cashier, who searched about the spot for one. And then she handed a pair of small white sheets of paper to him. Once he thanked her, he handed one of them to Sam, who then used her free hand to take out her pen from her purse. For a moment, she had forgotten her new address but then she wrote it down with a bit of speed.

She also wrote “the big house by the lake” right next to it in parentheses; and she handed it over to Chuck, who had written down an unfamiliar number on that other piece of paper.

“That's our management's number,” he told her as he handed over the paper, and she exchanged with him.

“The big house by the lake,” she said, and he chuckled at that note.

“I should also give you my number, too, seeing as this is my neck of the woods,” he added as he scribbled another number that she didn't recognize, and then he handed it to her. “Remember, if you need anything, call me. Or call Tiff, or Eric, or any one of us. We'll come for you. Anything you want. You're not just our first member of the fan club, but you're a friend to us now.”

“That's hell of a long drive, though,” she pointed out. “It's like the times Joey would drive from upstate down to New York City.”

“It's alright—really, it's alright, Sam. We're all from California, we know this whole entire place like the backs of our hands. And people here do it all the time, driving from the San Francisco Bay Area to Los Angeles, and for work, too.”

The line inched ahead and Sam bowed closer to the door. Chuck was right behind her the whole entire time as she headed outside to the small square parking lot. He put his sunglasses back on and then turned to her. Right there, with the sun on the side of his face, he actually resembled to a true Native American chief, even without a headdress upon his head.

“In fact, you know what?” he started again.

“What's that?” she asked as she held her groceries down near her knees.

“Our friends Death Angel are playing a show down here some time next week in promo for their new album. Tiff and I'll come get you and we'll go see them together. The three of us and—I think Alex is gonna be with us, too. I'll have to ask him.”

“Okay!” Her face lit up at the sound of Alex's name. “Um—what time is it gonna be?”

“Seven o'clock. I think? That's what Mark told me.” She thought about Aurora and her encounter with Mark before her wedding. Like a distant memory at that point, especially with her there, three thousand miles away, clear across the country.

“House by the lake you said?” he asked her.

“Yeah. It's three stories and literally down by the water, too. You'll know it when you see it.”

“Okay.”

She threw her arms around him and he returned the favor.

“There will be more hugs in the future,” he vowed to her. Without another word, they parted ways and she doubled back down the street to the house in question.

With every step along the way, therein lay one thing she didn't understand with Bill and his status at the school, and how he found his way to convince the dean and the higher faculty that Sam had come with him. Perhaps he fooled them along the way as well.

Marla helped move the desk into that third floor, which meant that no matter what happened over the course of the next year or so, she could continue on with her art. All the time in the world without the girls nearby, and without Bill at the helm as well. All the art she could imagine for herself as she strode in through that heavy glass front door and into the vacant foyer. The girls still hadn't returned home, but she could leave the crackers in their bedroom however.

Sam padded up the stairs to the loft with her own food. Perhaps when Marla had a new job at the school, and Bill was released from payroll, she could in fact find her way back to school and back to New York in the end. That is, if Marla did in fact land a job there and Bill did in fact tell the truth to her. If nothing, Sam would relish her time alone and there by the lake, and in a place in which she had lived at no less.

“I'm pretty much done with school anyway,” she muttered to herself. Then again, there had to be a better venture out of there, even with those two little girls nearby. They weren't even her children, but she had to do something for them. Before she took her spot back on the edge of the bed, something stopped her right in her tracks.

She brought her attention to the desk on the far side of the room, to that one drawer.

She opened the drawer and still at the bottom was that piece of rice paper.

He was nearby her for real from that point onward. Alex was no longer a mere scrawl on a sheet of paper, but a mere day's drive.

If nothing else, Testament would serve as her escape as she smiled at his scribbled name for a moment before she closed the drawer.

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch62:Part Of The Journey Is The End

Intro

All good things must come to an end…

Warnings: “Language!”

Smut (NSFW) no under 18s.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

So here it is, the last chapter…well, before the Epilogue which will be out at some point next week. As always, re-blog and leave your thoughts, I live for your comments!! I’m super emotional right now that this has come to and end! Thank you, THANK YOU to all of you who have read and invested in this story, Katie means a hell of a lot to me and I PROMISE this isn’t the last you’ll see of the Stark Spangled Banner Universe.

And to @the-omni-princess, who has been there RIGHT FROM THE START…this one’s for you!

Mid November 2023.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?” Bucky looked at Steve, not quite able to process what he had said. “You’re gonna pull a stupid ass stunt like that, and you’re not even gonna tell your wife?”

“Buck…” “You know, you’ve always been a dumbass ass Steve but this…” he turned round shaking his head before he spun back, pointing his finger at his friend “This is something else…she’s fuckin’ pregnant…you already have kids!” “What, you think I don’t know that?” Steve blazed at him, “I’m doing it because of that, because…losing her…I can’t do it Buck, I just can’t…” “Then why are you not telling her?” Bucky shook his head at him “If this is all because of some twisted idea that it will mean less heartache in the long run…tell her.” “I can’t.” Steve shook his head “She’d try to stop me and…” “Damned straight she would because it’s a fucking stupid idea!”

Steve shook his head “This is my chance, a chance to be who I’m meant to be, who I want to be…and I can’t let it pass me by.”

Bucky looked at him. Steve’s face was set, he knew that look well. There was no talking the stubborn little punk out of this. He simply shook his head and looked down at the ground.

“I want no part of this.” he shook his head and Steve sighed.

“Bucky…” “I mean it Steve.” he looked at her. “What you’re planning on doing is one thing but to not tell your dame…” he shook his head “She has a right to know. She deserves that at least.”

With a final look over his shoulder Bucky turned and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, before heading down the hall.

“Bucky?” Katie frowned as she saw the look on his face. She’d heard the raised voices but hadn’t caught much of the conversation, but from the looks of it they’d had a pretty big argument. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just…he told me about his plans.” Bucky said, “For the shield…” he recovered quickly, which wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh, and you don’t agree?” she asked, almost curiously.

“Yeah, I do I just…” he shook his head “I need to take a walk, this is…just a bit much you know.”

She nodded and smiled “I know how you feel, wanna take Lucky?” she asked, smiling. Bucky had a fondness for the dog which he tried to hide, but failed miserable. Bucky’s mouth curled up at one side and he nodded.

“Yeah I can take him.” he said “only as a favour, you know, so that you and that punk don’t have to.”

Katie grinned and unhooked the least from the coat-peg by the door. Wordlessly Bucky took it, clipped it onto the dog’s collar and headed out of the door.

He headed down the drive and onto the quiet road, not quite sure where he was going, not that it mattered. He just needed to calm down. The conversation had started off pretty positively. Steve explained that he was retiring, handing down the shield and Bucky had braced himself for the question. He didn’t want the shield, he had no intention of being a symbol of hope to people. If he was needed, he would fight, like a good soldier, but he didn’t want to. So when Steve explained that he was passing it to Sam after talking it over with Katie, Bucky had let out a huge breath of relief.

“Seems my girl was right.” Steve smiled as Bucky looked at him “You don’t want it.”

“I’ve had enough Steve.” Bucky sighed “I mean, I’d take it if I had to but…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do Buck.” Steve said, hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze “not anymore.” Bucky smiled and looked down at his feet, his eyes misting over. He hastily blinked back the tears and then looked back at his friend, lip curling into a smirk “You gonna give Seagull half a shield?”

“No…” Steve said, biting his lip “I have a…a plan, some way to get another one. But it means I’ll be going back. Back…and staying.” Then the stupid prick had explained his plan and Bucky had gotten mad. He had everything he ever dreamed of right in front of him. A gorgeous wife, 2 kids and another on the way, a comfortable life, stability, a home…and now he was about to leave it all. And Bucky was fuming because he knew, that once again, he’d be picking up the pieces and mopping up after Steven dumbass Grant Rogers.

Back at home Steve was sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, running over the conversation in his head. He could count on one hand the amount of times he and Bucky had fought like that, and he didn’t like it. Part of him wished he hadn’t told him but he had to, he had to make him understand why he was doing what he was doing, so that at least someone knew and could explain when and if needed. Steve hadn’t expected him to react favourably but not to the extent he had done. And the thing was, Steve knew he was right. Katie had a right to know, but he couldn’t tell her and watch her beg him not to do it. He could never say no to her. “What’s up with Bucky?” Katie asked as she walked into the kitchen. Steve looked up, hands sliding down his face and gave her a soft smile.

“I just told him about the shield…and my plans to take the stones back.” “You’re taking the stones?” she asked quietly, sitting next to him.

He nodded.

“Why?” Steve sighed “In all honestly baby I can’t explain. I just feel like this is something I need to do, to close the end on the loop maybe. The last mission.”

She looked down at the table, taking a deep breath, her hand falling to her tiny bump. She sighed, deep down she had known this was coming. Thor had already left, Bruce was too big to do all the work himself, Clint was out, leaving her and Steve. She had been hoping that they would work together, at least, do a mission each but she wasn’t surprised Steve was shouldering this. Like he said, his last mission to close the loop on his time as Captain America.

“When?” she asked softly.

“As soon as Bruce has the machine running.” he said, “It’s taken longer than he thought as he’s had to acquire a lot of stuff, everything was buried in the compound so… I’m not sure.”

She didn’t reply, instead she looked down at her hands which were resting on her stomach.

“It’ll be ok.” he said to her softly, tipping her face up to look at him. “It’ll all work out.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared.” she said, looking up at him, green eyes full of tears “Steve…”

“I promise it’ll be ok.” he said again as he reached out and gave her a hug, laying his cheek against the crown of her head, closing his eyes and just relishing her warmth and closeness.

**** The tension between Steve and Bucky continued for a few days. It was palpable and noticeable to everyone in the house, bar Jamie that is as at least they tried to avoid sniping and bitching at each other in his presence.

“What the fuck did they argue about?” Sam whispered to Katie at lunch on the third day of their feud, watching as the two men were moving stiffly round one another in the kitchen. “Surely he can’t be that pissed Steve’s intending on taking the stone’s back.” “I dunno.” Katie shrugged, taking a deep breath “But I can’t keep going like this, it’s driving me insane.” “Do we need to stage an intervention?” He quipped, watching as Bucky moved to pour himself some coffee, Steve backing out of the way, not looking at him. “Or maybe they just need to have a fight, get it out of their system.” Katie cocked her head to one side and eyed up the two men. She wasn’t blind, and whilst she found Steve utterly and ridiculously attractive, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t think Bucky was handsome as well, not to mention his physique. Steve was bigger and broader than Bucky who was an inch or so shorter and a little more wirey but that was hardly surprising. Steve was built for fighting, for force, for war…Bucky on the other hand was built for agility and speed, for being an assassin who could operate in the shadows, but he was no less of a match for Steve, in fact he was the only man she’d ever seen hold his own against her husband in a toe to toe fight. As she watched Steve reach into the cupboard for some bread, his jaw was clenching slightly, his cheek twitching from the angry nerve and she suddenly felt the heat pooling between her legs.

Fucking hormones.

“You know, I think that’s a great idea.” she grinned, turning to Sam “Naked mud fighting…winner takes all, including me…” Sam spluttered out his coke, choking slightly before he threw his head back in a roar of laughter. The two super soldiers paused what they were doing and turned to face the pair of them. Katie was sat in a seat, grinning as she sipped her glass of apple juice whilst Sam was struggling to regain his composure.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky demanded.

“You two acting like a pair of school kids who have fallen out over who gets the first slice of pie.” Katie looked at him “Grow up.” “Me grow up?” Steve looked at her, frowning

“Yes, Steven…” she looked at him, her face stern now as she glared at the pair of them “I don’t give a shit what you’ve been arguing about, and I don’t even want to know…but this stops, right now otherwise you’re gonna get the full brunt of one of my tantrums. And I’m pregnant and hormonal so it ain’t gonna be pretty.” Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the look of utter horror on Steve’s face. To be fair he’d only experienced her temper once when she had forced him and Sam to share a room in Germany. And he had to admit she’d been pretty scary. He rolled his eyes and looked at his friend, taking a deep breath.

“I still think you’re being a dumbass.” he said softly “But what else is new huh? Least I ain’t having to punch Tommy Leipschitz this time…Jesus he was a big son of a bitch.” “That was one time.” Steve groaned “And I told you, I…” “Had him on the ropes…” Katie and Bucky said at the same time as Steve let out a groan and hung his head.

Katie watched as the two men exchanged a look before she glanced at her watch, giving a start “Stevie we need to go, we’ll be late for Dr Kellet…” she stood up. “Oh, shit, yeah…” he nodded, draining his mug.

Katie headed off to get her jacket and he clapped Bucky on the shoulder as his friend gave him a questioning look. “Another scan…the 12 week one showed the baby was a little smaller than anticipated but so was Jamie so they’re just taking precautions… we might find out what it is today.” Bucky nodded, his lips clamped together. He wanted to ask the stupid bastard how he was continuing to act so normal, as if he wasn’t planning on doing something utterly ridiculous, but he bit it down. It wasn’t worth stressing Katie out. Plus, despite himself, he loved the guy like a brother. If this was what he truly wanted to do, no matter who stupid it was, then…

“Make sure you bring back a copy.” Sam smiled as he walked past “Uncle Sammy wants to see his future godson or daughter.”

Steve smiled, they’d not discussed the roles of godparents in any detail with anyone but each other. They’d already decided though, Katie wanted Jennifer, Brooke’s mom, to be one as the two were very close, and it was a given Sam and Bucky would get the roles of godparents too. But as he thought, he had an idea.

“Honey…” he said, following her, “Hey, I’ve just had a thought…” “Did it hurt?” she teased as he opened the door for her. He rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t we ask Jennifer and Brooke over tonight? I thought maybe we could ask them all to be godparents and tell them what the baby is, that is if we see today.”

She smiled “You know it’s still quite early so Dr Kellet might not be able to see but yeah, we could do. You trying to get round Bucky?”

“No.” he shook his head, honestly “Just thought it would be nice.” he opened the car door for her and she smiled and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek.

“I think it’s a great idea. We can drop by the coffee shop on the way home.”

**** “So baby is a tiny bit smaller than anticipated for 14 weeks but we could have gotten the predicted dates wrong anyway, given everything thats happened. Important thing is that the heartbeat is strong and everything looks great…” Dr Kellet smiled. “And if you want to know I can tell you what it is?”

Katie looked at Steve and they nodded, smiling.

“Well, congratulations.” Dr Kellet smiled. “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Katie said gently, her hand tightening round Steve’s as he gripped her fingers “A girl Steve…”

Steve smiled, bringing his hand up to kiss the back of it. A girl, a little girl…

“I hope she looks just like you.” he said, tears brimming in his eyes. And she smiled up at him, before her eyes went back to their daughter on the screen. A perfect profile, nose, cheeks, ears… Soon enough they were on their way to the coffee shop, Steve lost in his thoughts. A daughter, a little girl…

“I want to name her after Natasha.” Katie said, looking out of the window before she turned to Steve. He stole a glance at her, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, one of her names anyway.” she said, her hand resting on her little bump. “Don’t suppose you have any thoughts?” “One.” he said, taking a deep breath “I’d like to name her after my mom.”

“Sarah Natasha?” she asked, smiling softly, but Steve shook his head as he stopped at the lights.

“No.” he turned to face her “I know this sounds stupid but…well, Sarah Rogers…it was her name and I’m not sure I want there to be another one, you know, and there’s nothing we can really shorten Sarah too…so…”

She smiled and lay her hand on his knee. “Ok, so we got Sarah Natasha as middle names…we just need to suss her first one.”

“Well it took us a while with Jamie.” “No it took you a while with Jamie.” she smiled “I knew from the start I wanted the name James.” “No sudden thoughts with this one?” “One or two.” she shrugged, and she did. One in particular, that had been in her head for years since their time on the run in Scotland when kids had been nothing but a dream to her. “But we can mull them over later. For now let’s just be happy she’s a she and she’s perfectly healthy!”

He smiled, and leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you, you know that right?” “Of course I do.” she grinned and he smiled before he set off again down the street.

It wasn’t long before they reached Jennifer’s shop and they walked in, the woman beaming as she saw them. They took a seat and it wasn’t long before she walked over with their usual order, and Katie handed her the scan photo.

“Oh my god look!” Jennifer gushed. Katie smiled at Steve who leaned back sipping his coffee. “You find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Yeah, we did…” Katie said, smiling. “But we’re gonna tell the kids first.”

Steve simply watched her, taking a deep breath before his phone started to ring. Excusing himself he stood up.

“Bruce?”

“It’s ready.” the man stated simply “The tunnel.” “Already?” Steve gulped. Despite the fact it had already taken 4 weeks, which was longer than Bruce had anticipated it was going to. Whilst that meant they had managed to plan it out to the last detail. It was still too soon. He wasn’t ready to leave, it wasn’t enough time…

“Yeah…” Bruce replied, “But there’s no rush, I mean another few days won’t hurt…” “No.” Steve shook his head, glancing over at Katie who was still talking to Jennifer, the two women laughing and giggling, now joined by Emmy and Brooke who had turned up after school. “Let’s get it over with. Tomorrow morning? The kids will be out of the way, so…”

“Alright, let me know what time and I’ll meet you at the compound.” Bruce nodded “Well, what’s left of it that is. We can set up on the hill.”

“Sure, see you then.” he said. Biting his lip he placed his phone back into his pocket and made his way back to the table.

“Everything ok?” Katie asked.

“Yeah, just Bruce…” he said, giving her a look. She took a deep breath and nodded, understanding.

“Listen…” she turned her attention back to Jennifer as Brooke took the scan photo from Emmy and grinned. “Why don’t you come for dinner tonight? Meet Sam and Bucky and we’ll tell you what it is!”

“Erm…” Jennifer looked at Brooke “You got any plans?” “None that can’t be cancelled for Mrs R’s cooking!” Brooke grinned and Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“I swear to God that’s all I get every time you feed her.” she said and Katie grinned.

“Bring your dad too if you like?” Katie smiled. Brooke’s grandfather, a slight man called John, had been one of the Vanished that had returned.

“Oh he’s on a date.” Jennifer grinned. “Some woman he met at one of the support groups Steve has been running for the returned.”

“See mom, even Grand-poppy is dating…” Brooke looked at Jennifer, raising her eyebrows. “You need to get yourself out there.” “You ok?” Katie looked at Steve as Jennifer groaned at Brooke. He was in his own world.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he said, fixing what he hoped was a believable smile on his face before he looked at his watch “We best get going, pick Jamie up from crèche.”

They arranged a time for Brooke and Jennifer to join them before they drove over to the tower and after retrieving Jamie, Katie walked back to the car.

“So come one!” Emmy said “Tell us what it is!”

Katie glanced at Steve before she grinned and turned to face her kids. “It’s a girl!”

“No way!” Emmy said, smiling “That’s awesome…” “A girl?” Jamie frowned, before he shook his head “Nope, I don’t want a sister. Take it back.” Katie laughed “It doesn’t work like that.”

“But, that’s not fair!” he said, folding his arms.

“Look buddy…” Steve gave a snort as he looked at his son “Life isn’t fair. But just think, as it’s a girl she won’t wanna play with your toys.” Jamie contemplated this for a moment “Suppose…but she won’t be able to play ball!”

“Course she will.” Katie said “Girls can do the same things boys do. Sometimes better.” “nah ah…” he shook his head “you don’t throw a ball as good as dad.” Steve felt his chest contract as he suddenly thought of all the things he would miss, ball practice in the back yard before dinner being one of them.

“But I swim better than him.” she said, smiling. And it was true. Steve’s body wasn’t made for agility, which meant swimming was the one thing she could beat him at, much to Jamie’s amusement.

Jamie sat back, still unconvinced but he didn’t say another word about it until they pulled onto the drive and he quipped “Will she steal my shirts like you steal Daddy’s?” **** “Tomorrow?” Sam asked as Katie looked down, her eyes misting over.

Steve nodded and reached out for his wife’s hand over the table. “I want to get it over and done with, the longer we wait…” Katie looked at him, her head was reeling. He’d only told her a few days ago that he was planning on taking them and she thought they’d have more time. “But…”

“Don’t sweetheart.” he sighed, “Don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw twitched as he looked at Steve who held his gaze for a moment before he turned back to Sam who was speaking again.

“One last mission…”

“Not for you.” Steve looked at him.

“What?” Katie looked at him “You’re going alone?”

He nodded “I’ve had weeks to plan this.”

“So it seems.” she shot back and he sighed heavily.

“This is the reason I didn’t tell you sooner.” he shook his head “because it would just make you worry.” “Oh, well, now she’s not worried at all…about the fact you’re going on your own!” Sam said sarcastically, folding his arms.

“It’ll work out. I promise.”

Before either of them could say anything else, the security alarm sounded telling them someone was at the gate.

“I’ll go.” Bucky said, standing up as Katie pressed the button on her phone to open the entrance to the drive taking the opportunity to escape, the conversation was taking a turn and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Mr Barnes…” Brooke smiled as he opened the door.

“Bucky kid.” he gruffed “How many times do I gotta tell ya. Mr Barnes was my dad.”

“Whatever.” she passed him and Jennifer sighed.

“Sorry, she’s…” she shook her head laughing, “I don’t know what she is.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking in the red-head in front of him. He’d never met the woman before, he’d seen her in a photo that Katie had in the smaller den, one of the pair of them on a night out but…well, it didn’t do her justice. Her hair was set in loose curls, her eyes were a vivid green and her smile lit up her face. He coughed a little and shook himself out of his stupor and smiled, stepping back.

“I’m Jennifer.” she offered,

“Yeah, I know…I mean…” he scratched his head “Katie’s spoken about you…all good things, of course.” he added.

She gave him a small quirk of her lips and stepped past him as he closed the door. Mentally telling himself to get a grip he followed her into the kitchen.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Steve pleaded as Sam stood up and headed to the fridge after shooting Steve one more glance which made it clear he thought he was an idiot.

“I..” she shook her head “you know what, there’s no point arguing with you so whatever.” She stood up, wiping at her tears. She had so much she wanted to say, to tell him he was an idiot, but she didn’t have the energy. He would do it anyway, and she’d be stood there for those horrible moments he was gone wondering if he was going to make it back, or if she’d lose someone else.

“Hi!” Jennifer said, her smile faltering as she noticed Katie wipe her eyes “You ok?”

“Hormones…” Katie waved her hands dismissively as Bucky shot Steve another glare. He returned it with one of his own, shaking his head as Katie introduced Jennifer to Sam.

“So come on!” Brooke demanded, looking at Katie and then Steve as she accepted the coke Emmy offered her “Mom’s dying to know…” Katie gave a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but that changed as soon as Jamie tottered into the room.

“It’s a girl.” he groaned.

“That’s the second time you’ve outed us.” Steve smiled, picking his son up “Can you keep a secret about anything?”

“That’s one way he isn’t like you.” Katie muttered, before she smiled at her guests “Dinner won’t be long. Emmy, you wanna take everyone to the dining room?”

Somehow Katie made it through dinner although she had no idea how. She had no alternative, she didn’t want Emmy or Jamie to pick up on how furious she was with their dad. It wasn’t all bad, they’d asked the adults to be god parents as planned and they’d all accepted, happily. The food was good, the conversation was happy and filled with laughter at times but when the guests had gone and Jamie was in bed and the dishes were cleared away, Katie excused herself and headed upstairs for a shower.

“Is mom ok?” Emmy watched her leave. Bucky gave a snort.

“She’s just tired.” Steve said, ignoring him. “It’s been a long day.”

“Gonna be even longer tomorrow.” Bucky said under his breath.

“Huh?” Emmy asked.

“She has meetings.” Steve said, glaring at Bucky as Sam gave him a dig with his elbow. “Look, I’m gonna call it a night. Don’t stay up too late, another hour tops. You have school in the morning.” “Ok dad.”

He dropped a kiss to her head, “Love you.” his breath caught in his throat before he headed upstairs. He headed into Jamie’s room, tucking the covers up around his son’s shin and simply looked at him, and for the first time ever he could see what Katie meant when she said he looked like him. The sudden realisation made the tears spring into his eyes which he hastily wipe. He dropped a kiss to Jamie’s soft blonde hair “Love you son…” and with that he headed into their bedroom.

Katie was already in bed, the lights off. He stripped off his clothes and settled in behind her, his hands wrapping around her from behind.

“Baby please don’t be mad.” he said softly, his hand stroking her small bump as he kissed her neck.

“You drop all of this on me…and expect me to be ok with it?” she turned to look at him, tears trickling down her cheek. “I’m not mad Steve, I’m fucking furious and petrified that I’m gonna lose you too.” “It’ll work out.” he said, weakly, unable to think of anything else he could utter. “I promise.” She looked at him in the soft light, he’d never broken a promise to her yet in the entire time she had known him. She opened her mouth to speak again, but decided she didn’t want to. She had nothing more to say about it. He was going to do it, whether she told him to or not.

Steve wiped her tears with his thumbs before he placed his mouth on hers, drinking her in. She kissed him back, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair and he gave a soft moan, relishing the touch. She rolled over onto her back, his hand straying up the side of the t-shirt she was wearing, fingers squeezing at her hips, the hips he could draw from memory.

“I love you.” he said, urgently, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

“I love you too.” she whispered as her hands moved down his back, nails scratching slightly on his skin. They broke apart long enough for him to remove her shirt and his mouth trailed down her jaw to her neck, across her collar bone as he took his time, his affections continuing all over her body, committing every god damned line, curve, blemish and scar further into his memory. When neither of them could take it anymore, he rolled over, bringing her with him, straddling him. She locked eyes with him and moved, her hand giving him a few strokes before she sank down, taking him in, both letting out a groan. Steve held her hips as she moved, finding her rhythm as she worked him, her head tipping back as she moved slowly. He wanted to see her, be face to face, so he sat up, drawing a soft cry from her lips at the change of angle. His hands moved from her hips, to her ass, then to her back as his mouth gently moved to her neck, hitting that spot he knew so well, then down to her breasts, nipping and sucking at them each in turn.

“Stevie…” she muttered, a soft, low keen of his name and he groaned a little louder. His name, the name she used, said in such away…it almost broke his heart.

“Look at me…” he said gently, his nose nudging hers and her green eyes locked onto his “I love you doll, so much.” “I love you too…” she stuttered, before her mouth fell open in that exquisite way it did and she let out a soft whimper as she came, tightening around him, collapsing forward, her head burring into the crook of his shoulder and neck. He wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts upwards and the fireworks in his stomach exploded as he released inside her with a groan.

They stayed still, gathering their breath as he cradled her close, trying to stop the tears that were now threatening to pour down his face as for the first time since he had made his decision, he started to doubt whether or not he was strong enough to go. *****

Late the next morning, up on the hill by the ruins of the compound the small group gathered around the Quantum Tunnel. Steve, clad in his uniform, checked the stones were all in the case, as Bruce checked the controls and spoke to him.

“Now, remember– You have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them. Or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities”

“Don’t worry, Bruce. Clip all the branches” he said, closing the case.

“You know, I tried. When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back” he said softly, looking at Steve. “I miss them, man.”

“We all do.” Katie said softly, watching the pair of them as Steve gave Bruce a soft smile.

“You know, if you want, I can come with you.” Sam tried again as Steve walked towards the tunnel.

“You’re a good man, Sam.” Steve smiled at him, sincerely. “This one’s on me, though.”

He took a deep breath and walked over to Bucky, who was watching him.

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘till I get back.” he said, and despite himself, Bucky looked away a smile playing on his face.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” he said back, quietly as he swallowed.

Steve stepped forward to give him a hug.

“You’re gonna miss us buddy.” he said quietly and Steve stepped back, looking at his friend

“It’s gonna be ok, Buck.” he said, with a nod. Then he turned to his wife who was stood watching. His gorgeous girl, her eyes shining as she stepped forward into his arms.

“You stay safe…” she said, her voice cracking “And come back or I’ll never forgive you.” He couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. Instead he kissed her, long, soft, the familiar feeling of her lips on his was both heaven and hell at the same time. Eventually he pulled away, gave her one last smile before he stepped up onto the platform, the Quantum Suit forming around him.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asked as Katie moved over to where Bucky was, the soldier gently placing his arm around her, giving her a squeeze.

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.” Bruce said.

As long as he needs…the words echoed in Steve’s mind as he bent down with a shaky breath and picked up Mjolnir, the hammer having been bequeathed to him by Thor to return.

“Ready, Cap?”

Steve nodded again, although he was anything but. “Alright. We’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet.” he nodded, and it wasn’t technically a lie. He stole a look at Katie one last time as the helmet formed around his head.

“Going quantum. Three, two, one– “

And he closed his eyes as he disappeared into the Quantum portal.

Bucky felt Katie stiffen besides him and his arm tightened around her as Bruce tapped away at the keyboard again.

“And returning in, five, four, three, two, one– “

Katie watched with bated breath…but Steve didn’t reappear.

“Where is he?” she managed to breath out, looking at Bruce, stepping forward slightly.

“I don’t know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.” Bruce said earnestly.

Katie felt sick, the entire world around her swam and she looked down at her feet, the earth was spinning below them.

“ Well, get him back.” Sam instructed as Katie began to reel. Something had gone wrong. It had to have done

“I’m trying” Bruce replied.

But it if had gone wrong, how had he overshot his time stamp? She looked up to see Bucky was watching her, his face wracked with guilt as he turned away from the pad.

And then she realised, nothing had gone wrong. Steve had done this on purpose.

“Get him the hell back!” Sam’s demands continued as she stepped forward, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey, I said, I’m trying!”

“Bucky…” she said and he sighed, “What’s he done?” “I’m sorry, I tried to talk him out of it…” “He’s…he’s gone back?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded.

“No he wouldn’t do that.” she shook her head, desperately “Not to the kids…”

Bucky looked down.

“Tell me now, that he’s….he’s not staying…” her hands grasped at Bucky’s shirt, desperately as she looked up at him. “Please…tell me…”

“I can’t because he is.” Bucky sighed, his stomach churning as he looked into her eyes “Well, kind of anyway…”

“Kind off…what the fuck do you mean?” she was almost yelling at him but she was cut off by a loud yell from Bruce.

“Wait! I’m…yeah. Hang on…we got something.” He punched a few more buttons and then the machine kicked to life again, and there he was. Stood in the middle of the platform, new shield on his arm. His Quantum Suit peeled away to leave him stood in his blue, red and white and Katie instantly noticed his hair was longer than she had ever seen it, there were more lines on his handsome face, and he once more had a full beard which was sporadically speckled with grey. She looked at him for a moment, her tears falling before he gave her a small smile. “Hey Doll.” She couldn’t breathe. Shakily, she let go of Bucky and walked up the steps onto the platform and looked at him through her tears. His eyes were full of their own, unshed, as his trembling hands fell to her waist and he took a shaky breath. “Fuck I missed you” he said gently. “How long” she whispered “15” “15 months?” She gasped “Years baby” Her eyes widened further “I don’t…what… 15 years?” “It’s been hell without you.” He said his tears now falling and then he couldn’t stand it any longer and he pressed his lips to hers. She slid her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply before a soft sob from him made her pull away. “I don’t understand?” She whispered, her head pressing to his “Why?” “At Tony’s funeral I saw Pepper and it got me thinking about how much of her life she has left and…” he took a deep breath “the thought of me being here, having to say goodbye to you thanks to this serum and then having another 20 years to go…it killed me.” “So you took the hit now?” She said, her chest rising and falling deeply, her trembling hands cupped his bearded jaw. He nodded “I knew it would be easier knowing I had you to come back to. When I asked you to marry me, I said I wanted all my lasts to be with you.” He choked a little as his voice cracked, the words caught in his throat. “And I meant it. I wanna grow old with you, and now I can.” The last few words he spoke were swallowed up by his sobbing as he pressed his face into her hands which were still cupping his jaw, a tender, familiar touch, one he had been aching to feel for so fucking long. “We got the rest of our lives baby” he managed to choke out between his convulsing gasps, as he pressed his forehead to hers “Our forever.” “I love you.” Katie managed to stutter, “So fucking much…” He pulled her to him, her face pressed into his chest and he buried his face in her hair, both of them shaking as they both wept loud, ugly desperate tears, clinging to one another as if their lives depended on it. And maybe, at that moment, it did.

“Ok, back the FUCK UP!” Bruce broke then moment “Sorry to intrude but…”

Steve let out a soft chuckle and he turned to him, his arms still round Katie, shield still strapped to his left. “Sorry guys, it’s been a while. 15 years to be exact.”

Sam frowned and turned to Bucky who shrugged, smiling softly.

“15 years? So did something go wrong, or did something go right?” he crossed his arms.

“Well, I had an idea, an idea that means I…well…” “You stayed back the amount of time you needed to counter your slower ageing.” Bruce said, his mouth dropping open as Steve stepped down from the platform, hand round Katie’s.

Steve nodded.

“And you knew about this?” Sam demanded, looking at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged.

“No wonder you wanted to go alone.” Sam shook his head, a small smile playing on his face.

“Where did you go back to?” Katie asked softly.

“1955.” he said, “10 years after I went into the ice, thought it was enough time for me to be forgotten about…plus, when I spoke to the Ancient One she advised that even though it was a parallel universe, it still wasn’t a good idea to be in a time where another version of Steve Rogers was walking about so…” “But how?” Bruce asked. “Every time we go back, it creates a new universe…or so she explained.” “I kept one of the stones.” he said. “Again, her idea. She said that as long as I did that, whether I took days, weeks, months, years I was still on the mission. And once the final stone went back, that alternative universe and everything I did would no longer be an issue. I don’t understand it fully either but…”

“So you hid? For 15 years?” Katie looked at him, she had so many questions…

“First rule of hiding, don’t hide.” he grinned down at her “I went to your dad.” “What?” she gasped.

“Explained what was going on, it took him a while to believe me but he helped me out. New identity, a place to stay….and I got a job, just stayed off the radar until the time came to take the final stone back to Vormir…” He sighed and looked around “I tried to get Nat back, the stone for a soul but…” he looked down “It didn’t work.”

Bruce nodded, and scratched at his chin “Must have been a lonely 15 years.” Steve smiled “It wasn’t all bad, but being away from the kids…” he turned to Katie “And you…”

He was welling up again, and she shook her head, “you’re an idiot.” she spluttered out between her tears, as the magnitude of just what he had done hit her. He had sacrificed 15 years of his life so that they could spend their forever together. Because he loved her that much. It was crazy, it was almost unbelievable, but it was him all over. A self-sacrificing idiot. Her idiot. Her soldier. Her love.

“I see you brought something back.” Sam nodded to his shield.

“A gift from Howard, which reminds me…” he said, releasing his wife and turning to Sam, pulling it from his arm. “Try it on.”

Same frowned and looked over to Bucky who nodded, then Katie who smiled and laced her fingers through Steve’s.

With a shaky hand, Sam slipped his arm through the straps.

“How does it feel?” Steve watched him, as he moved his arm up and down, feeling the weight of the Vibranium.

“Like it’s someone else’s.” Sam quipped, looking at him

“It isn’t.” Steve insisted. Sam looked down again, taking a deep breath. When he looked back up, Katie could see he was trying to hold back his tears.

“Thank you.” he said, softly “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s why it’s yours.” Steve said, smiling as he stepped forward and shook Sam’s hand, the most significant handshake he had ever given. The passing of a mantle.

“Just so you know birdbrain.” Bucky said, “I’m not calling you Captain.”

“Shut up Tin Man.” Sam shot back.

“Just do me one favour.” Steve said, “Don’t tell Jamie…”

They all shared a laugh.

“Speaking of the kids…” Steve looked at Katie, his face earnest.

She smiled and reached up to cup his cheek. “Let’s go get Jamie…Emmy’s in school so you’ll have to wait a bit.”

He grinned and dropped a kiss to her lips. “Waited 15 years doll, I can manage another half a day.” “I err…think me and Sam will make ourselves scarce tonight. I have a feeling you two will be doing a lot of catching up…” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at the couple as Sam gave a snort.

“After 15 years I’m not sure he’ll last all that long.” Katie teased as she turned to face their friends, and Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“You know, I’ve still got the serum in me.” “Yeah and so will Katie later.” Bucky quipped.

“Buck!” Steve said, exasperatedly as Bruce and Sam both laughed.

*****

His reunion with the kids had been emotional. They’d explained to Emmy what he had done, and she’d hit him. Hard across the face and called him an idiot before she’d melted into his arms, crying. Jamie, however, they’d just told him Avengers stuff had made him grow a beard, and the innocence of youth meant he simply accepted it and stated he couldn’t wait until he was older so he could be an Avenger. A thought which scared the shit out of his parents.

It felt odd, but yet not, to Steve, finally being back with his family. It had been a hard 15 years but he’d simply focussed on why he was doing it, and thrown himself into his life as ‘Steven O’Rourke’ working as an Art Teacher. Howard had helped, immensely, and despite the man’s best attempts Steve had told him nothing about what the future held, and had departed for Vormir the day before he knew his younger self would arrive back in 1970 to get the tesseract.

He’d been aching for his wife. 15 years of jerking off had been, frankly, shit in comparison and their reunion didn’t disappoint. Not sure how long he was going to last, he’d made her come once with his fingers, once with his mouth and now, as he was thrusting into her, hands tangled with hers as he held then either side of her head he knew she was close again.

“Baby I’m not sure…” he began to gasp and he moaned again as she rolled her hips upwards slightly.

She leaned her head forward, tilting her mouth to gently nip at his neck and whispered 3 words into his ear “I got you.” 3 words he had spoken to her so many times over the years, 3 words that told her he would always look after her and the sound of her saying them to him made him lose it.

“Fuck…” he said, his hips stuttering and as she arched into him further he heard her gasp his name again as she tightened around him and fell backwards against the pillow, her breathing deep, as he rode out his release.

“If that’s what leaving for 15 years does…” Katie she managed to stutter and Steve let out a chuckle that was punctuated by a soft moan as he dropped his forehead to hers.

“Don’t even say it…I’m not going back again.” Katie giggled between her ragged gasps as she gently brushing his longer hair back off his head.

“You need a haircut.” she said.

“You don’t like my 70s do?” he teased

“Yeah but…” she shrugged “It’s old fashioned.” “So am I.” he grinned and she hit his chest gently before he rolled off her falling to his side, facing her. After giving her another soft kiss she turned over, her back pressing to his chest and he scooted up behind her, hands falling to her bump and they lay still for a while, as he buried his head into her neck. God he’d missed this. Missed her. The way she smelt, the way she felt…

“Part of the journey is the end.”

Tony’s words echoed around in his head and he smiled, this was his end. The end he always wanted. Wife, kids…and end he at one point thought he would never have.

“You can keep the beard though.” Katie murmured. “You’re not Captain America anymore, no need to murder it again.”

He laughed before he kissed her neck again and closed his eyes, his arms not once letting go of his precious, precious hold.

And for the first time in 15 years Steve Rogers slept soundly.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #bruce banner #hulk #part of the journey is the end #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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valkyrie-echo · 7 years

Text

Project Echo, Part 1: Chapter 9 (Repairing the Damage)

Part 1 Summary: A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.

Chapter 9: Repairing the Damage

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Tony asked anxiously, "You're not going to kick my ass the second I start strapping you down? We're going to have to pin your arms and legs for this."

Bucky was in the operating room standing next to the procedure table. His hand was shaking and he was trying hard not to hyperventilate. It was clean, yes, but still looked a hell of a lot like his nightmare. He kept telling himself it was going to be different, they were helping. He wouldn't be awake, he wouldn't hear the bone saws or feel the screws taking hold. He wouldn't smell his flesh cooking...

Even as he tried to get control, he was psyching himself out. It was becoming more difficult to distinguish this operating room from Hydra's.

Tony saw his eye twitch and, with a subtle signal to Thor he moved to the far side of the table to stand by his remote suits. Thor had come in with Bucky to help in case he triggered- exactly like he was doing now.

"James, this is to help you, not harm you," he stepped up behind him. Bucky tensed, became hyper-aware. They'd lured him here and he was stupid enough to follow. They were going to make him the Winter Soldier again- he had to get out!

Bucky swung at Thor suddenly, but the Asgardian moved to his left and before Bucky could pivot he felt an arm around his shoulders, pinning his one good arm down. At the same time something stung his neck and-

"Told you so!" Tony called out to Steve in the observation room. Thor caught Bucky as he sagged and pulled the needle from his neck. Steve was too hopeful- Bucky wouldn't have made it. He would have gone berserk at best as he was being strapped down. Thor and three of Tony's remote suits were armed with powerful tranquilizers, ready to step in.

Once Bucky was secured to the table and his metal arm was extended fully away from his body, Stark knocked on the main door to the O.R. and the surgeon entered. Thor nodded to the nervous man and left to watch with Steve.

"Ready Doctor Johansson?" this was the same surgeon who led the team in removing the shrapnel from Tony's heart, he was more than competent and worked wonders, even with such unusual procedures as this.

The doctor nodded and began hooking wires to Bucky to monitor various things- heart rate, blood oxygen level, blood pressure, brain activity and more. He had been promised assistants, but the Suits were hardly what he had in mind, even though Tony had modified them for medical work. Still, one stood between the doc and the trays of surgical equipment while another began hooking IVs into Bucky's human arm with all the delicacy of a nurse.

Tony came forward with the third suit, his assistant, "JARVIS, project an x-ray of the arm, highlighting human tissue in yellow and mechanics in blue. Nix the plating, unless it hooks into him directly." A framework appeared over the arm and Doctor Johansson whistled.

"How much for one of these for the hospital?" he examined the projection closely, "the bone was cleaned up, at least. I was worried it would have been a hack job. It's not pretty, but it's a lot better than I was expecting." he turned his attention to the shoulder joint, "We will need to remove these screws in the upper joint as quickly as possible."

Tony looked at it from a technical standpoint, "To get at them you'll need the base plate off. It hooks into the upper metal plates here," he pointed something out, "so I can't get to those while that's still on."

"We'll have to remove most of the flesh on the arm," the doctor nodded and pointed at the base plate. It flashed and the framework became more detailed and slightly enlarged over the area, "His skin has fused to the metal, you sure he can handle the schedule you've set?"

"I told you," Tony sighed, they'd been having this conversation all morning, "he's got the same mojo Captain America has, it will take more than these surgeries to do any permanent damage. Plus, it was all put on while he was conscious, and there wasn't even topical anesthesia. If he survived that, he can handle the removal. Besides," he added, "I'm paying you extra to not worry."

"I always worry about my patients," Doctor Johansson looked at the monitors, "I'll be keeping an eye on those, if it looks like it's putting too much strain on his system, I'll stop immediately."

"Deal," Tony went back to examining the mechanics and highlighted a rather terrifying array of wires that snaked out of the stump to wind into the metal arm. This was why he had to be in the room during the procedure- the mechanics were too complex for a surgeon to figure out alone, "These are the neural interfaces. From the scan I ran on him yesterday, I'm confident they will release from the outer arm fairly easily. If I have time, I'll make a replacement, but for now we just leave them be, got it?" the doctor nodded.

"Anything mechanical I will defer to you before touching. Now, first things first, we need to clean the area before we begin to remove the plate. It looks like we will have to make a cut here-" he marked a spot near Bucky's shoulder, "and disconnect the skin from the muscle directly. Can this table lift?"

Tony hit a button on the side and the straps tightened. Slowly, the table tipped vertical and turned. A section of the table folded in, fully exposing the back of Bucky's metal shoulder. "This will give us 360 degree access, no worries there."

"Okay, I want one of these for the hospital too."

"The suits aren't available, but I'll have JARVIS fabricate a half-dozen of these as your tip."

Steve's cell phone rang and he left the observation room to answer it. The number came up as blocked. Half the people he knew were SHIELD agents, spies, or simply non-existent as far as the government was concerned, unknown numbers were more common than calls from people on his contacts list. "Hello?"

"Hey, Cap."

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, "Coulson, I'm glad you called. Have your Agents made it back yet? How is Tripp? Did you lose anyone?"

"Everyone's alright," Coulson sounded cheerful, "a few took shots, like Tripp, but Agent Simmons got everyone patched up beautifully. Agent Tripp is still in recovery, but he'll be just fine. I've got a beta team on-site cleaning out Astana, then we'll take care of wiping it off the map."

"That's great, I was really worried. Tell them all I owe them, big. Anything you guys need."

"I appreciate that. Did you get him, or does the hunt continue?"

Steve smiled, "We got him. His only condition was that we keep working this 'Project: Echo' angle- he says the girl is alive, but he can't remember which base he sent her to. He'll be out of commission for a while, but we'll get to the bottom of this."

"I'll put a few agents to work scanning all the files to one of Maria Hill's satellite servers. She can grant JARVIS access to run keyword searches. If we find anything, I'll call again."

"Alright, thank you- for the team and for all the help."

"So long as it ends in tears for Hydra, I'm happy to help out. I've got to get going, we've had something come up in the Caribbean that requires my attention."

"You guys good?"

"Yeah, don't worry. Unless the world ends. If that looks like it'll happen, I'll give you a shout."

"OK," Steve laughed, "talk to you later."

"With me." Natasha intercepted him as soon as he got the phone into his pocket and turned back to the operating room. She looped an arm through his and dragged him backwards towards the elevator.

"What the hell, Nat?"

"You need to get out of here while they do their thing, or you'll drive yourself nuts. They'll call with updates, we're going to run errands."

"Natasha, no," he tried to pull out of her iron grip with no luck. Steve was suddenly very unsure- he and Bucky were the only super-soldiers, right? "I've got to get started on Project Echo."

"Oh yeah," she rolled her eyes and hit the elevator call button, "Hydra top secret project, your ability to finally use google will really help JARVIS out. Now stop wining, you're not getting out of this one."

Natasha kept him out all day. When they returned Steve was weighed down with bags upon bags of new clothes to fill Bucky and Sam's closets, as well as take-out they'd brought back for everyone. Steve had pretty much just been her pack mule all day.

He set the bags and food down in the lounge area and ducked into the observation room while she went upstairs to find Clint, Thor and Sam.

"I wouldn't-" Banner tried to warn him, but he wasn't quick enough.

Steve's stomach twisted and he came very close to throwing up. Bucky's shoulder was exposed- in every way. The metal plate was gone and the area was covered in a thick, clear ointment, but he could see very clearly they'd taken all the skin off. Muscle was exposed and drying blood dripped down his side. His back was to Steve at the moment and the table was vertical, but that was somehow worse.

Tony was under Bucky's metal arm, making a face and using a power drill to remove a bloody screw from his armpit as long as Steve's smallest finger, and nearly as thick. Two others sat in a small glass dish. A fluid-stained towel covered the metal plate sitting on a tray near the window. A corner of it poked out and Steve could see the fused, warped flesh.

"That's the last screw," Banner explained, "then they will get to removing the rest of the arm. It'll probably take a few more hours, then they're basically doing a shoulder replacement surgery and calling it a night. Of course, by then it'll be more like tomorrow morning..." Tony got the rest of the screw out, shivered, then looked up and waved at Banner to say something. Banner leaned forward and turned the intercom back on, "I couldn't stand the sound," he explained.

"Rogers, you OK if we just keep him under until the new base is installed? It might be safer for us and more comfortable for him."

Steve nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, "Good call. Should I get the healing stone from the apartment? It could help."

Doctor Johansson looked confused, but Tony shook his head, "Not yet, wait until we're done for the night. I don't want to risk it waking him up while we're still working. One good wrench in this state and he might lose the shoulder entirely."

Steve ran a hand through his hair, then turned to Banner, "Food is in the lounge, if you have an appetite. Let me drop some stuff of upstairs and I'll take a shift. Thanks for keeping an eye out."

"It's not my field, but I still think it's pretty cool." Banner was amicable, "Take your time, I'll be sticking around until the metal comes off. I might go grab a plate though," he sniffed, "Chinese? Excellent."

Steve walked out to the lounge with him and took Sam and Bucky's clothing upstairs. Sam looked like he'd won the lottery when he saw everything Natasha had picked out. He'd spent way too long living on jeans and old t-shirts as they hunted down Bucky. Now he had a real wardrobe fit for someone living in the most exclusive apartments in New York City.

Steve tossed the rest of the bags in his laundry room and showered, then headed back down to take up his watch for the rest of the night. Banner ate as he studied Tony and Doctor Johansson's handling of Bucky's surgery. Steve couldn't even begin to fathom how Banner could still have an appetite, he anticipated the picture of Tony pulling a screw out of Bucky's armpit being etched into his brain for the rest of his life...

Chapter 10: What the Shadows Hide

#avengers #marvel #my writing

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unintentionaloracle · 7 years

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What You Deserve [Post-S12 Finale Supernatural Fic] (Obviously Spoilers)

This is my way of coping, okay?

It was all very familiar, dying.

After all, Crowley’d done it before. Granted, this time was there was a lot less screaming, thrashing, being ripped apart by hellhounds as you pleaded for your life, and regretting your choice to sell your soul for a larger dick as they tore at said dick that got you in this mess in the first place, but...

And Crowley had to admit, he preferred this time better than the last. He enjoyed the irony of The Former King Of Hell performing a heroic sacrifice. And enjoyed the satisfaction of how he died this time. Flipping The Literal Devil -the thing that’d been a thorn in his side for the better part of two years- the metaphorical bird was a hell of a way to go. Not many people could say they went out like that. And dying for the men he... Didn’t hate as much as he pretended he did at times (maybe even felt fondness for)... Had something nice about it, too, he supposed.

He was... Content... Ready to fade off into The Nothing... Or Purgatory... Or wherever the hell he was supposed to go, now...

Bye, boys...

But then there was a strange feeling... A sort of grip. Like an ex-lover begging you to stay. Or a child, not wanting to get separated from their parent. Or a fangirl listening to “Goodbye, My Lover” on a loop whose apathetic cynicism cracked and just wasn’t ready to let her favorite go just yet.

It was like he was being... Tugged... Yeah, that’s what it felt like. Being tugged vaguely upwards by some unknown force.

What the hell?

Suddenly, the abysmal black he’d been “floating” in since driving the Angel Blade into his flesh in what probably his noblest act in three hundred years was transitioning into a grey sky. He felt solid dirt below him. He gasped for air like he’d been drowning.

He looked around and saw two familiar faces, looking down at him.

“Moose? Squirrel?”

He saw a third face. It was an unnatural looking young man with glowing eyes.

“Whoever the hell you’re supposed to be...”

The young man flipped him off. “My name is Jack Kline, ungrateful urchin...”

“HEY! What’ve we told you about that “ungrateful urchin” crap!? Don’t do that!” Dean chastised.

“Jack” stuck his forked tongue out at Dean and sulked.

Sam helped Crowley up. “Yeah, it’s us... You’re okay, now...”

“Did... Did the spell work? Where’s the baby with feathers?” Crowley asked, reflexively feeling where his wound should’ve been, only to find it clean.

“Cas is...” Dean couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

“The spell worked. We trapped Lucifer here...” “THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS STILL HERE IN THE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!?”

“Well, you see...”

“...Our mom got trapped here, too...” Sam said.

“So Jack here, Lucifer’s kid, he opened a new rift so we can try and get her back home.”

“And since I owe them for not killing me, I revived you since they seemed so fond of you,” Jack said, “You’re welcome...”

Crowley blinked. “Fond of me?”

“Shut up...” Sam said, though to who wasn’t clear.

“You came over and revived me before the angel?”

“Well...” Dean said.

“I didn’t feel like reviving him yet...” The spawn of Satan said.

“...Is he always-”

“Yes... Yes he is...” Dean said wearily.

“Delightful.”

The Spawn of Satan told Crowley to do something that was anatomically impossible.

“Besides...” Sam said, looking away. “You... Uh... You still owe us a closed Gate to Hell. That was our deal. That’s all...”

Crowley smiled. “Aw. I missed you boys, too, Samantha...”

Dean coughed. “Well, enough with the chick flick moments. Come on! We gotta get moving. Mom could be anywhere...”

“As well as my father...” Jack said.

Crowley smirked. “And that goes for me, too?”

“Of course, you’re officially Team Free Will, now. With all the perks and privileges that come with it.” Dean said.

“Well then, boys,” Crowley said, “we’d better get a move on.’

#supernatural #spn spoilers #crowley #spn crowley #fanfics #does this count as a fix fic?#the oracle writes

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Scissors

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2618 words, rated M for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Bucky goes to get his haircut, and ends up talking about his and his hairdresser's dating lives.

TW: homophobic language/terminology typical of the early 1900s, mentions of past rape and abuse

Read on AO3

Part 9 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

The only reason he makes it out of his house on Tuesday morning is because Charlie’s a nice girl, and he doesn’t want to be rude.

He even manages a shower, but it’s probably obvious to anyone he bumps into that he’s just crawled out of a proverbial hole. He’s going to have to deal with being in front of a mirror during his haircut and he’s dreading it.

It’s been three days since the Target incident.

Three days of forcing himself to eat, of no shower and barely any sleep, an endless loop of misery and darkness as he sat on the floor of his living room and waited for days to pass.

When he sleeps, he sees the deaths of Arkady Shostakov and his wife. It hadn’t been a good kill. It had been sloppy, with a boot print in the puddle of blood and brain matter on the apartment carpet. It had made for a good message sent to his handler’s other political enemies, however. He’d been punished for the sloppiness, with a whip. His handler, his обработчик, called himself traditional. He liked the whip. Bucky’s still surprised he healed without a trace from those days.

Needless to say, he’s barely functioning, but he has an appointment, and Charlie always puts time aside and lets him come early so he can be okay. She goes through so much trouble for him. So he’s going to show up, even if he would rather eat glass than stare at his own reflection for any length of time.

The sun is pale and hesitant as he reluctantly walks away from the locked door of his house. It’s less cold than it was a couple days ago, and the wind has subsided a little. His breath still forms clouds in the air.

He pulls out a cigarette and smokes one on the way to the salon, adding to the clouds he breathes out. He hates the new packages with their pictures of charred lungs on them. He gets why they’re there, but he also hates it. Too little too fucking late.

They got the American people hooked on cigarettes during the first world war, and have kept pumping it out ever since, under the guise of trying to make soldiers’ lives a little less terrible. His da didn’t smoke before the war, at least that’s what his ma used to say. They supposedly didn’t have many cigarettes in Romania when they were growing up. The reason why lungs like that exist in the first place is their own desire to make a profit. That kind of greed is the root of all fucking evil.

He crushes the butt of his cigarette against a wall two blocks from his destination.

The salon is small, modern. There’s a lot of dark wood, a lot of metal and white walls. There’s a crack in the wall behind the entrance desk, but they don’t seem to want to fix it just yet. It’s the kind of crack that might hide structural issues and he gets it. It’s not cheap to get that work done.

Charlie is not standing behind said desk when he walks in. He clears his throat a little loudly to announce he’s there but stays dutifully in front of the register, looking around the room. It’s half plunged into darkness, the timid sunlight not enough to chase the shadows of the deepest parts of the place.

The lights aren’t all on. They’re not officially open yet. It’s a privilege for him to be there. God Almighty, he doesn’t deserve that sort of kindness. He’s a broken shell of a man with a kill count that would make anyone kick him out without a second thought.

It takes a couple minutes before Charlie walks out from the backroom. Her hair is incredible, one side shaved so close to the skull it’s practically bold, the other flowing and beautiful, the back braided to keep the delimitation clean. A work of art, really.

“Sorry for making you wait,” she calls out and walks up to him. “Good to see you, James.”

He nods at her. “No worries.”

She shows him to his usual chair, gives him that weird robe to put on, grabs the spray bottle to wet his hair and her tray of things. He sits down on the leather, swallowing hard, staring down at the stack of magazines in front of him rather than the mirror.

Tension knots his shoulders high, he can feel it. He knows he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He doesn’t want her to think he’s not thankful, but he can’t really bring himself to relax right now.

“Everything okay?” She asks as she walks back to him, putting everything in order by her side. She’s precise in how she moves, almost surgeon-like. He likes how she doesn’t move recklessly. When she does, it’s for a good reason. It’s comforting. “So the usual scissor haircut? Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Bucky nods at the first and second question, but pauses at the third. He hesitates long enough that she feels she has to justify her questions.

“You look a little worse for wear, buddy,” she explains. “I just want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to make you comfortable.”

Bucky opens his mouth and closes it. He looks up at her reflection for a second, trying to ignore his own face in the mirror. She looks a little tired, but kind and genuine. He’s going to leave her the biggest tip he’s ever given.

“I don’t mind accommodating you, okay? As long as it’s doable for me, I’ll do it, I just need you to communicate with me.”

Fuck, this is the nicest anyone has been to him in months. Sam talks to him like that too, sometimes, when he’s putting on the counsellor persona.

“Do you need the mirror to work?” He asks quietly.

He can almost hear the grinds in her head turning as she looks around, thinks through things… It takes a moment, and he’s about to open his mouth to say it’s no big deal when she smiles at him. “I might need it at the end, to make sure everything’s looking good together, but for most of the haircut, I can put something over it. Does that work for you?”

Bucky nods. The flood of relief and thankfulness unleashed into him rises up to his eyes. They prickle with tears. He immediately swallows them down as Charlie walks off to grab another of the robes. He’s not going to cry in public.

He immediately stands up when she comes back and helps her drape the robe over the mirror. She’s tiny and he’s already asking for so much. The least he can do is help.

They go back to their earlier position. He’s sitting in the chair, she’s standing by him, arranging her tools. He sees her slip off the ring that’s on her left ring finger and puts it on a chain that rests around her neck. She’s married.

“I’m going to start now and touch you,” she warns. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable any time, okay?”

She’s asked that every time he’s been there. Granted, it’s the fourth time. But it’s more courtesy he’s been given within the last two months than he ever was for seventy years with Hydra. No one usually asks if he’s okay with being touched.

“Yes. Thank you,” he says quietly as she lays her hands onto his head, running her fingers through the strands and starting to figure out where and how she’s going to cut.

Her fingers are gentle but firm. Her touches are never too light. When she touches him, he can feel it, and he can feel when she doesn’t. There’s a clear, obvious difference.

Within minutes, he’s relaxing into the chair, eyes half closed, the exhaustion of the last couple of days weighing his eyelids down.

“You can’t fall asleep on me, James,” Charlie says softly. “I need you to hold your head up.”

He hums and shifts, opening his eyes to stare at the black fabric draped over the mirror. He straightens up a little. He’s going to fall asleep if he doesn’t have a conversation, so he tries to find a topic.

“You take off your wedding band for work?” he asks after a moment.

“Ah, yeah. I got tired of having bits of hair getting stuck between my skin and it.” She explains.

He doesn’t nod, because he doesn’t want to disturb her work. “So who’s the lucky fella?”

The energy of the room shifts. She has a small sigh and hesitation before she goes. “It’s a woman actually. My wife.”

“Ah, fuck,” he blurts out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

It’s been a struggle and a half to figure that part of the world out. He’s sucked more dick than most people alive can say, but seeing two people of seemingly the same gender kiss in public makes him want to run and hide.

“It’s all good,” Charlie mutters, and she seems a little less hesitant now.

“Really, I got… I don’t have a problem with it,” he says, and realizes how terrible that sounds. He closes his eyes with a grunt. “I sound like an asshole.”

Charlie chuckles behind him. Her scissors work lightly against his ears.

“Really, I’m happy for you. The whole marriage thing, it’s awesome. Back in my day, we couldn’t imagine that kind of thing.”

He’s pretty sure she knows who he is, how old he actually is. Hopefully, she’ll get what he means.

The last time he tried his hand at dating, sodomy was illegal. It could get him in prison or in a mental institute getting tortured to try and ‘cure’ him. He couldn’t even look at a guy too long, in case they’d take it badly, or worse, in case it was an undercover cop sent to find sodomites and arrest them.

When he was growing up, there were a few big name celebrities who were openly homosexuals, but by the time he hit his teenage years, they had been booted out of Hollywood and the world had turned even more oppressive against anyone they saw as different or wrong.

The only place a guy like him could perhaps get some action safely with another man was the YMCA. Bucky went there even if he was a Hebrew, and they famously turned the other way when it came to homosexual acts commited by their members. He’d never been with any guy there. With a few girls, once or twice..

Like Dorothea, the daughter of some rich donor who’d sponsored some of his matches. A spitfire sort of girl, who played coy and poked his bruises and went ‘oh, these must hurt so much’, then shoved him against the wall and wrapped him around her little finger so tight she almost had him calling her mistress when they did it.

“It’s been a lot to get used to,” he admitted, out loud this time. “Sometimes, I see two men kissing and I… it feels like I’m going to see them get beaten up on the spot. Or arrested.”

Charlie sighs softly. “New York’s nice, but it can still get pretty dangerous for people. Depends on the neighborhood, depends if you’re white or not… but it’s not perfect yet.”

For a second, he wishes they hadn’t covered the mirror, so he could look up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “You’d think that kind of shit wouldn’t happen anymore, in 2024.”

She huffs behind him. “We take it one step at a time. We could get married, so that’s already that. At least the laws are less against us than they used to be,” she mutters. “The people… all we can do is keep existing.”

Bucky likes her a bit more every time she opens her mouth.

“May I ask about your wife?” He says after a moment of silence.

Charlie chuckles. “My favorite topic of conversation.” She starts a stream of information, their marriage date, how they met, and Bucky lets her talk, smiling slightly at the obvious tenderness in her voice. It’s nice to hear someone talk about their loved ones like that.

Her name is Katherine, she’s a psychology student at NYU, pursuing a PhD. They’ve been married for about four years. Neither of them got snapped, and they pretty much exchanged vows the second they found a working administrative structure.

They keep chatting about Charlie’s wife for a moment until she starts working on the fading hairs into his collar.

“So, what about you? Did you end up finding a partner?” She asks and he swallows.

He’s no good for dating right now. Who’d want a guy like him as a partner? Sure, the girl from Izzy’s, Leah, is cute and sarcastic and makes him smile more than a lot of people do but… He’s 106, with more trauma-related issues than anyone alive.

“Nah,” he mutters. “I’m not the dating kind. There’s a lot I gotta figure out first,” he says quietly.

Besides, it would be hard for anyone to exist in his world with Steve’s shadow hanging around every corner. ‘Yeah, the last person I was in love with is Captain America’. That would be unfair to anyone.

And there’s the whole issue of sex too. The last time he’s had sex was in 2014, if you can even call it sex. It’s not a problem of looks or opportunity. He’s aware he’s attractive, or at least desirable. He’s been made well aware of that fact, thoroughly, over the course of decades. He knows all about his eyes, his lips, his hair, his ass, his dick, his chest, his thighs, his prosthetic arm, his flesh one, his throat, his fucking feet.

He knows. He just has no idea what sex with someone that doesn’t hold pain over his head would be like. His fantasies are fucked up half the time, either violent or way too fucking sad. And he just doesn’t fucking trust anyone. He can’t. Charlie’s pretty much the only person he trusts to touch him.

“Yeah,” he adds. “I’m not in that place yet.”

Charlie nods. Her voice sounds like she’s smiling next time she speaks. “Take care of yourself first. That’s the smartest way to go about this.”

“It’s the only way,” he admits.

They fall to silence after that. Bucky feels self-conscious pretty much immediately. That hairdresser knows more about his personal life than anyone alive, including his therapist. It’s a horribly vulnerable position to be in, and he shudders at the realization of how much fucking trust he’s putting in this girl he’s barely ever met.

She’s a complete stranger and he just unpacked a lot of his shit to her, easily. She gently pulls his head until it’s tilted to the side and allows her to finish out the edges of his cut and he lets her. He lets her move his head around without complaint, barely tensing. What the fuck is wrong with him?

It’s not incredibly long until the cut’s over and he can pay for it, leave her twice the amount in tips, and hightail it back home, both cursing himself for his stupidity and more relaxed than he’s been in a long time.

His house reeks of sweat and misery when he comes home so he opens the windows to let the air flow through it. It’s vulnerable like this, anyone could get in, but it feels good. Sometimes, opening a little is what you need to chase away the misery.

#jewish bucky series #jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #marvel #mine #fic

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

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ANOTHER THING THAT KEEPS PEOPLE AWAY FROM STARTING STARTUPS IS THE RISK

As far as I know there's no word for something we like too much. Both the Internet startups and the Procter & Gambles were doing brand advertising. 06 and 1/1. Cancer will show up on some sort of new, vocational version of college focused on entrepreneurship. The problem is not finding startups, exactly, but finding a stream of reasonably high quality ones. That's how you win: by investing in the right startups.1 In 1995 it was hard for industrialization to flourish in societies that value hierarchy and stability, just as it was hard to take search seriously. What you should spend your time thinking about how to save it. I worry I'm misleading you by even talking about other things. These are basically mass referrals. I know it's the wrong thing to optimize. The third part, incidentally, is how you get cofounders at the same frequency—then you may already be a better place if people only wrote books because they had some business guy whispering in their ears what customers wanted?2

How many startups fail.3 That was her actual word. It's hard to see how constant the threat of failure was—not just for other people that you need to learn about are the needs of your own users, and all the other people will move. Here's a common way startups die. The traditional way to do really big things seems to be run by a couple of CS grad students, not the percentage of the company at the point where 100% of the startups were able to raise significant funding after Demo Day, where a batch of newly created startups presents to investors all at once. Don't try to construct the future like a building, because your current blueprint is almost certainly mistaken.4 Moore's Law used to mean that a deal is going to be. What went wrong? 5 years' cost at the present valuation.

Universities are, at least for the server market.5 If people were scanned all the time is not because it has something to say about programming languages.6 That means for each big winner we could pick a thousand companies that returned nothing and still end up 10x ahead.7 Search was only 6% of our traffic, and we want to want—when it transforms opium into heroin—it seems bad. He thought we were meeting so we could show him our new technology, Revenue Loop. Viaweb, which we disliked at first. But that isn't true; they are not ordinary people. After further testing, it turned out to be really tough than the quiet ones.8 Why do the founders always make things so complicated? 034. That was not a natural move for Microsoft.9 You have to ignore the elephant in front of computers, and I still don't fully understand it.

From other startups. None of these companies were even meant to be companies at first.10 That was the phrase they used at Yahoo.11 This has led some in the media to conclude that blogs don't present much of a threat—that is, in effect, an annuity. Their union has exacted pay increases and work restrictions that would have been delighted if I'd realized in college that there were parts of the world. Till the rise of technology startups, and in particular, Internet startups are still only a fraction of the company. It's not merely that they don't let individual programmers do great work large grants of stock to give him.12 People will say things in anonymous forums that they'd never dare say to someone's face, just as pop songs are designed to prevent what programmers strive for. Greg Mcadoo from Sequoia recently said at a YC dinner that when Sequoia invests alone they like to take about 30% of a company, all they want to do it yourself. 05, or 4. The standard plan was to try to develop ideas in house, but simply because they're least willing to move. It's not that Microsoft isn't trying.

And not just because they'd be a lot of trolls in it. I knew as a founder your incentives are different. Most technology companies eventually get taken over by suits and middle managers.13 5 people. But that doesn't mean it's wrong to sell.14 Most of them don't try to act tough with them unless you really are the next Google, or they'll see through you in a second.15 But success has taken a lot of time on bullshit things or lose to people who behaved like assholes in forums, whether intentionally or not. This one took 67 minutes—23 of writing, and 44 of rewriting.16 You can magnify the effect of a powerful language by using a style called bottom-up often works better than top-down. It was no coincidence that the great industrialists of the nineteenth century had so little formal education. There's a name for this compiler, the sufficiently smart compiler, but no one person would have a complete copy of it.

How to start a startup.17 Unless we want to want, we consider technological progress good.18 There's a strong tradition within YC of helping other YC-funded startups. One could have described Microsoft and Apple were founded. But there were moments when he was optimistic. Good programmers manage to get a fix on these underlying forces by triangulating from open source: that people working on projects of their own are enormously more productive. Nothing will teach you about angel investing like experience.19 They won't be replaced wholesale. You'd expect them to be cold and calculating, or at least businesslike, but often they're not.20 If nuclear winter really is here, it may be best to go for brevity.21 There probably aren't more than a couple hundred serious angels in the whole Valley, and yet they're probably the single most important ingredient in making the Valley what it is.22

Notes

IBM seemed a lot more frightening in those days, then work on Wall Street were in 2000, because companies then were more at home at the start of the Web was closely tied to the minimum you need but a blockhead ever wrote except for that might be an inverse correlation between launch magnitude and success. Think it's too hard to prevent shoplifting because in their social lives that didn't already exist.

On the other students, he tried to preserve their wealth by forbidding the export of gold or silver. Simpler just to go away is investors requiring them. The person who has them manages to find it hard to say that a their applicants come from all over, not the primary cause.

But that was basically useless, but I think it is less secure.

Good news: users don't care what your body is telling you to believing in natural selection in the same as they do for a future in which case immediate problem solved, or your job will consist of bad idea.

Later we added two more investors. The rest exist to this day, thirty years later Jim Ryun ran a 3:59 mile as a definition of property is driven by the leading scholars in the woods. And yet there are lots of back and forth. Of the remaining outcomes don't have to recognize them when you had a big change from what the earnings turn out to be a win to include things in shows that they discovered.

You can relent a little too narrow than to read this essay, Richard and David Whitehouse, Mohammed, Charlemagne and the Origins of Europe, Cornell University Press, 2005.

Reprinted in Bacon, Alan ed.

Many hope he was a test of success.

If spammers get good grades in them.

But it could become a genuine addict. But the margins are greater on products.

And I have so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say now. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that the feature was useless, but you should.

Learning to hack is a bridgehead.

17.

For example, understanding French will help dispel the cloud of semi-sacred mystery that surrounds wisdom in ancient Egypt took exams, but it doesn't cost anything. At the moment the time. When you're starting a company changes people.

If you try to get as deeply into subjects as I explain later. But this seems an odd idea. For example, MySpace is basically zero.

It seems quite likely that in Silicon Valley like the one Europeans inherited from Rome. Delicious/popular. The best technique I've found for dealing with recent art that does. I get the money so burdensome, that probably doesn't make A more powerful, because you could probably starve the trolls of the year x in a not-doing-work.

Maybe at first, and both times I bailed because I can't predict which these are the first version was mostly Lisp, which merchants used to build little Web appliances. Come work for the same reason I don't have to say they bear no blame for opinions not expressed in it, but that's a rational response to their kids to say that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000. As always, tax loopholes are definitely not a programmer would never come back with my co-founder before making any commitments. PR firm admittedly the best in the future, and Smartleaf co-founder before making any commitments.

I switch in mid-twenties the people working for me do more with less?

Probabilities in this algorithm are calculated using a freeware OS? After reading a draft of this essay will say that it makes the business for 16,000 drachmae for the firm in the old days it was spontaneous. I use the wrong algorithm for generating their frontpage. What is Mathematics?

Though in a time. The wartime versions were much more analytical style of thinking.

Lester Thurow, writing and visual design.

The mere possibility of being watched in real time. A web site is different from deciding to move forward. If early abstract paintings seem more interesting than random marks would be much bigger news, in the mid 1980s. So it may be that surprising that colleges can't teach students how to distinguish between selecting a link and following it; all you'd need to fix once it's big, plus they are.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Paul Buchheit, Steven Levy, Sam Altman, Robert Morris, Brian Burton, Greg McAdoo, and Garry Tan for sharing their expertise on this topic.

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