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fanfictionaries · 5 years ago

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Love and Academia Ch.9 - Cold Beer and Crossed Lines

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide, Angst

Author’s note: A little attraction. A little flirting. A little Clint. A whole lot of Bucky and Emily!

Also: Holy cow! 5.5k words?? Longest Bucky chapter and longest chapter I’ve ever written on anything to be honest.

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

It should be illegal for cookies to taste this delicious. It should be even more illegal for the person who baked them to look so delicious. Bucky watched Emily as she took that Friday afternoon to tidy the lab. A group of visiting middle schoolers had spent the better part of the afternoon with them, learning about science, plants, and ecology and now the room was in shambles. Not that it was very clean to begin with. He had no idea why, but a universal truth existed about ecology labs – they were always a mess. Perhaps it was the lack aseptic technique required for their experiments. It might also have to do with the exorbitant amount of time they spent in the field, their camping materials, hiking boots, and lab equipment almost always coming back caked in mud. Nevertheless, you’d never find yourself in a spic and span ecology lab. The concept was practically an oxymoron.

Still, the mess the middle schoolers left was quite impressive and as his diligent graduate student, Emily had volunteered to clean up and put everything back into place. He watched her through the office window that looked out into the rest of the lab. Her hair was down today the long golden strands cascading down her back in thick waves. If he focused hard enough, he could just remember the silky, soft feel of it threaded through his fingers. She wore the same pair of baggy, paint-covered jeans as the day he walked into his office to find her dancing amongst the piles of Dr. Erskine’s book. They were high-waisted, synched tight at her small waste by a belt, but hanging loose everywhere else. It wasn’t until she bent over to pick something up that he could see the outline of her perky ass and full thighs. Currently, she was on her tiptoes attempting to place a large fluorescent light on top of a cabinet causing the bottom of her shirt to ride up and reveal the creamy skin of her ribcage. God, did she have to wear such little shirts? Not that he thought it would make much of a difference. The girl could probably come to school in a parka and he’d still get an erection watching her.

He didn’t know when the line of propriety in his mind had been crossed, but he was currently miles past it with no intention of turning back. The best he could do at this point, would be to come to a screeching halt and take five where he was. However, that was a little hard to do when everywhere he went, there she was. When he taught his classes, she was there. Sitting in the front row, idly doodling in her notebook, pen flipping in her delicate fingers, long legs crossing and uncrossing over each other. Often times, he found himself losing his concentration mid-sentence, too focused on the way Emily’s lips wrapped around the end of her pen. Even in the seemingly sweet solitude of his lab she was ever present. It didn’t matter what day or what time, she was there. Headphones on, working diligently at her desk. Dr. Erskine hadn’t been kidding when he said she was a hard worker. The amount of time she spent grinding away at her work bordered on unhealthy – bordered on his work ethic.

He had an excuse of course. He was using his work as a distraction. He always had. When Jenny Haver broke up with him his first year of graduate school, he locked himself in his room and didn’t come out until two weeks later, a full PhD proposal written to perfection. Is that what Emily was doing too? Avoiding something? Using her work as a distraction? He couldn’t imagine what it would be. She always seemed so happy and bright. Every morning, she swept into the lab like an early spring breeze, fresh and invigorating. Often times the day didn’t feel like it began until he saw her smile. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Even himself. She was his student. What he was experiencing was simply a basic case of carnal attraction. It was biological. Unavoidable.

“Hey, Dr. Barnes.” His wandering mind was brought back by the woman in question, standing in the doorway of his office. Despite their more relaxed relationship, she still kept her distance whenever she could, and she still insisted on calling him by his professional title. Probably for the best.

“Emily, what can I do for you?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and friendly and free of any hint that he had been ogling her moments before.

“I’m taking off early today. I wanted to let you know, I’ll have the rough draft for my introduction to you by Monday,” she said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Yea sounds good. Any fun plans for the weekend?” He wished he could pretend that he’d only asked to be polite, but truthfully, he wanted to know more about her. He needed to.

Emily rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “Oh yea. Major fun. That is, if working all weekend is considered fun. I’ll be swimming in it.”

“Whoa there, someone better real you in before you get too out of hand,” Bucky said dryly, joining in on the joke.

“I know, an absolute menace to society.”

“The worst.”

They smiled at each other, finding a soft comfort in their banter. It was not the kind of joke that brought you to audible laughter. Instead, it filled you with a warmth and fondness that stuck with you. The thought of it possessing the ability to make you smile for days, months, even years.

“What, um, what about you?” Emily asked, shifting her weight and leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, well I’ve got midterm grading to do. I might meet up with Steve for a few beers.” Bucky didn’t actually have plans with Steve, but he found himself making up the detail on the spot. The need for his life to seem less boring taking over momentarily.

“Oh fun…so it looks like you liked them.” Emily pointed towards the plate of almost finished cookies on his desk.

“Yea, they’re delicious,” he complimented, watching as Emily chewed her bottom lip as her gaze focused on the plate of snickerdoodles. She appeared to be deep in thought, the contents of it becoming clear when a dusky blush began to spread across her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, she snapped out of her trance and pulled her eyes away from the plate of delicious treats, making an effort to look anywhere but him. Realization flooded through Bucky, his mind wandering back to their texts from the previous night. Apparently, the exchange hadn’t been as one sided as he thought. He hadn’t meant for the text to sound so sexual when he sent it. Truthfully, it was a case of mistype, having forgotten to tack on the ‘s’ at the end of the word cookies. It wasn’t until the text was sent that he realized his mistake and how it might be construed. He thought about sending a follow up text immediately to correct it, but something had stopped him. Some sick, depraved part of himself wanted to know how she’d react. Emily in a whole was an enigma. Ever since their truce, he’d tried to spot any hint of the confident, sexy, bold woman he’d met that night at the bar. Something to prove to himself that it was her raw sexual prowess and the memory of it that weakened his resolve. However, that version of her had since been seen again. Instead, in its place was a sweet, intelligent, and sarcastic woman. A little shy. A little quiet. Funny. He didn’t know how to justify that in his mind. How to justify his attraction to that version of her in his mind.

“Well, have a good weekend,” Emily said softly, disappearing from his doorway before Bucky even had the opportunity to respond.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands and taking a deep breath before raking his palms over the rough stubble on his cheeks. He needed a distraction. Something entirely graduate student free. His thoughts wandered to his lie about hanging out with Steve. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Picking up his phone, he opened his recent call list. Mom. Mom. Mom. Sister. Steve. Clicking on Steve’s number, the phone rang.

“Hey Buck, what’s up?” Steve’s voice asked from the other end, the screams and shouts of little kids sounding from the background.

“Hey Stevie, I’m not bugging you at work, am I?”

“No, no. We’re on our second recess of the day. I’m monitoring. What’s up?” he asked again.

“Just wanted to see if you were free to grab dinner and a few beers tonight. There’s this place near my house I’ve been wanting to try,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair.

“Yea—” Steve’s answer was cut short by a loud screech somewhere on his end “—Jackson, stop. Put that down!” Bucky heard Steve scold; his voice more distant as he spoke to the children around him. “Yea. That sounds good. Just text me the place and time and I’ll meet you ther—Martha, that’s not how we talk to our friends.”

Bucky laughed, accustomed to half conversations with Steve when he was at work.

“Alright punk. I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up, not bothering to wait for a response. He knew he wouldn’t get one. When Steve was around his kids, they dominated all of his attention. He lived for those kids, every one of them. Just looking at the impressive cut of Steven Grant Rogers, you’d never think that his life’s calling was wiping snotty noses and teaching the ABCs. But one conversation with the human embodiment of a basket of yarn, you very quickly realized that he wasn’t fit for much else. Allegedly, and while Bucky had seen the pictures he still wasn’t fully convinced, Steve used to be just a sprig of a thing. Barely over five feet tall and a buck twenty soaking wet. He had told Bucky years ago in college that he’d hit a growth spurt halfway through high school and taken up weightlifting to stop getting his ass handed to him every day. But secretly, he believed the real reason behind his impressive growth in mass was to be able to one day lift his entire kindergarten class with one arm. He’d personally seen his best friend hold up ten giggling five year old’s dangling from a single arm like little monkeys.

No, tonight would be good. An extra-large pizza split between them both and one too many beers was just what the doctor ordered. Maybe a game or two of pool if they had a table. If not, he would be perfectly content with bullshitting and talking about the old days. This was just what he needed to clear his mind of Emily.

Four hours later Bucky was walking through the side entrance to Goody’s still reeling from the conversation he’d had with his mother. She wanted him to come home for thanksgiving. He did not. Let the argument commence. He loved his mother. He really did. And he knew she meant well. He really did. But he also hated her inability to respect his boundaries. He really did.

As he entered the small pizza joint and bar, he was pleased to see a few decent and empty pool tables in the far corner. Spotting Steve already sitting down at a table, two beers and giant steaming pizza before him, Bucky headed towards him.

“Got here early so I ordered for you,” said Steve, standing up to pull Bucky into a brief hug. Bucky slapped a hand on his friends back before pulling back and looking down at the pizza. Extra-large meat lovers. Extra cheese.

“Aww darling, my favorite. You remembered,” Bucky teased, sitting down and taking a large sip of the lager. Setting his pint glass down, he reached forward and grabbed a piece of pizza, the cheese stretching with a perfectly melted consistency.

“Well you know, I wanted to try the alfredo pizza they had, but someone refuses to eat anything but the most testosterone filled, artery clogging pizza.”

Bucky shrugged, taking a large bite of his slice and speaking through the pizza as he chewed, “Hey man, why bother with anything but perfection?”

“Well I can’t argue with that logic,” laughed Steve, grabbing a slice himself.

“Oh, my mom wanted me to tell you that she got your card,” Bucky remarked, remembering his mother’s parting request right before he ended their call. Every year Steve sent out a card with a picture of him and his new group of kids to all his family, that list seemed to include his parents.

“Oh great! How is Winni?”

Bucky sighed, “She wants me to come home for thanksgiving. I told her I was spending thanksgiving with your family. By the way, can I come to thanksgiving?”

“Yea, you’re more than welcome Buck,” Steve laughed before taking on a more serious tone, “Are they all still on your case for moving?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his beer. “Mom figures I should have stayed after everything with Diane. But, fuck, the last thing I wanted to do was be closer to her and all those memories. Plus, her and my sister still baby me over the whole thing. I’m a grown man. I don’t need their coddling. It’s been almost a year and a half.”

“I get that. Took nearly two years for Mary and my mom to stop trying to take care of me after Peggy left me. Nearly lost my mind, but they finally got the memo that I was okay. Are you…okay that is?” Steve asked, leaning forward on the table, eyebrows raised in concern.

Bucky had to think for a moment. Was he okay? For months he had felt consumed by the emptiness Diane’s departure from his life had left. The world had felt so bleak. He held so much anger towards her. For leaving. For giving up the way that she did. But now, things felt different. He didn’t know when it had happened but waking up in the morning no longer felt like a chore.

“Yea, I think I am,” he answered truthfully, finding realization and catharsis in the statement.

“Good. Good, man. I’m really happy to hear that Buck.”

They shared a brief smile before Steve’s morphed into a mischievous glint, “So does that mean you’re ready to get back out there?”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head, “Let’s just take this one step at a time, alright pal? But speaking of dating, how are things going with you and Natasha?”

Bucky watched as the smile on Steve’s face widened, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“You dog. That good?”

“Better. I uh…yea. Definitely better.”

Bucky laughed, taking another bite of pizza. Well, at least one of them was getting laid. He was happy for Steve. Even during his entire relationship with Peggy he’d never seen him so smitten.

“There she is!” A chorus of cheers and greetings flowed through the air from the bar behind him. Bucky didn’t think much of it until he heard the sound of a familiar voice.

“I know. I know. Maria had me in the basement doing inventory.”

Turning in his chair, Bucky was surprised to see Emily, standing behind the bar, chit-chatting with a group of older men and women. So much for a night free of his graduate student.

“Where have you been girl? We haven’t seen you in forever!” asked the patron near the end – an older woman with greying hair and kind eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry! My day job has been kicking my butt lately. But, it will all be worth it once I graduate,” Emily laughed, leaning against the bar top.

Bucky watched her as she interacted with the group. She seemed comfortable. At ease. The group must be regulars.

A throat clearing pulled him away from Emily and back to Steve, who looked at him smugly, “I could use another beer. Why don’t you run up to the bar and grab me one Buck?”

Bucky nodded, downing the rest of his and standing, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Uh huh, sure. Take your time man.”

Walking up to the bar, Bucky watched as Emily’s gaze passed over him and then doubled back, a smile spreading across her face.

“I guess you weren’t lying when you told me you were a bartender,” he said, setting his and Steve’s empty glasses down on the bar top. Emily raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Half-truth Dr. Barnes. Graduate student most of the time. Bartender sometimes.”

“I don’t suppose the sometimes you’re a bartender, you could call me Bucky?”

Emily breathed deeply, scrutinizing him through squinted eyes, “No, I don’t think I can.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t have any leverage as your advisor for you to change your mind?” Bucky asked mischievously.

“That sounds an awful lot like abuse of power Dr. Barnes—" Emily replied, a similar mischievous glint in her eye “—Now, what can I get you?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Can’t go wrong with a Caribou Slabber,” Emily stated resolutely, grabbing two pint glasses from the shelves behind her.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Two of those and uh, two waters.” Bucky pulled his wallet from his pocket and leaned against the bar, rubbing at the rough stubble on his cheeks as Emily poured his beers. Emily laughed, a small light thing.

“What?” asked Bucky.

“Watta,” Emily repeated, imitating his accent crudely.

“It’s not that thick,” Bucky defended himself good naturedly.

“Whatever you say Brooklyn.”

Bucky laughed, the sound of the nickname rolling off her tongue made something tug in his chest. Shaking it off, he pulled out some cash and placed thirty dollars on the bar top in exchange for their drinks.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” said Emily, “Say hi to Steve for me. Let me know if I can get anything else for you.”

A few hours later Bucky found himself in an aggressive game of one-pocket. Many hours spent in their dorm hall rec room had resulted in their shared skill at pool and they had a bad habit of getting a little competitive.

“Is that the best you can do?” Steve taunted when Bucky made his second scratch of the night.

Bucky sighed, standing up straight and taking a large gulp of Caribou Slabber. She really did have good taste in beer. “Shut up punk. I taught you how to play. Remember?”

“And now, the student has surpassed the teacher—” Steve shrugged, watching as Bucky eyes diverted towards the bar for the hundredth time that night “—okay. What’s going on?”

“What?” Bucky asked, feigning innocence and stupidity.

“Oh please. You can’t stop looking over at her. Is there something going on?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. She’s not even over there right now!” Bucky scoffed.

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out a curt mhmm. Bucky knew he didn’t believe him. He was no stranger to Steve’s ‘I know best and you know nothing’ look. But he was telling the truth. Nothing was going on between him and Emily.

“Whatever. Believe me. Don’t believe me. I’m going to take a piss—” he propped his pool stick against the side of the table “—and if I come back and you’ve moved any of those balls, I’m coming for you punk. Don’t even try it! I’ve got that table memorized!” Bucky called out behind him and he headed towards the back of the bar where the restrooms were located.

Rounding the corner, he was stopped abruptly by the sight of Emily with some guy. Crowding her space, the man stood only a few inches above her looking frustrated. Emily’s posture was closed off, her arms crossed in front of her looking away from him and at the doors to the restrooms. He should have turned away. It was none of his business. But something kept him planted in the stop, moving forward a few inches to listen in.

“See, this is what I’m talking about Em! You won’t open up to me. You never would! I mean, I mess up once and now you won’t even talk to me.” Interesting.

“Mess up? Mess up? Clint, you did the one thing, the one thing, I explicitly told you not to do!”

“I know. I know. But I promise it will never happen again. Just give me a chance! Couples get past this sort of thing all the time,” Clint pleaded, placing a hand on her arm that Emily promptly shrugged off.

“I can’t Clint. I told you how important faithfulness and honesty were to me. I made that explicitly clear at the beginning of our relationship and you agreed. You agreed and you still slept with Sharon! I mean, how long has it been going on?”

The man was quiet. Bucky’s stomach dropped. He should walk away. He should really walk away.

“How long Clint?” Emily asked again, this time her voice a little weaker.

“A year and a half.” Bucky might not have been sure he had heard the answer correctly if it wasn’t for Emily’s boisterous reaction.

“A year and a half?! Are you kidding me Clint? Almost our entire relationship? God. I can’t even look at you.” Emily turned to walk away, but Clint caught her by her forearm, yanking her back and against the wall. “Ow!”

“Em don’t walk away. Listen to me! I can explain!”

“Let go of me Clint,” Emily said through gritted teeth.

“No, not until you listen to what I have to say,” Clint responded, desperation and anger evident in his voice.

Bucky, no longer able to watch the exchange, stepped forward, “Hey, back the fuck off man. She told you to let go.”

The coupled looked towards him as he stalked down the hallway, anger seething through him. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Listen buddy, this isn’t any of your business,” said Clint in annoyance.

“Like hell it is—” Bucky grabbed Clint by the shoulder and pulled him away from Emily, before turning to her “—are you okay Emily?”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Emily said to Bucky. But the way her posture relaxed, and her arms opened from around her body said differently. She was relieved he had stepped in.

“Do you know this guy Em?” Clint asked, stepping forward.

Bucky swept around, placing himself between Emily and Clint. He towered over the man, using both his height and size to intimidate. Though, he reckoned the flaming, red-hot rage in his eyes would be enough to send him running. He was seething. Every ounce of his self-control kept him from absolutely clobbering the douchebag.

“Just go Clint!” Emily called over Bucky’s shoulder.

Clint laughed, no humor found in his expression or tone, “Are you fucking this guy Em? Is that why you won’t talk to me? Already slutting around?”

Bucky wanted to punch him. Bucky almost punched him. But the soft touch of Emily’s hand on his bicep kept him in check. Turning his head, he caught the desperate plea in her eyes and knew that beating this guy to a pile of mush would be the wrong thing to do. So instead, he took slow and calculated steps towards him until Clint was pressed against the wall opposite them. Bucky watched as the cockiness quickly melted from his face and in its place, fear resided. Jabbing a large finger into his chest, Bucky spoke low and menacingly.

“If I ever see you lay another hand on her, I will personally make sure you regret it. I will not hesitate to kick the ever loving shit out of you. Do I make myself clear?”

Clint nodded frantically, eyes shifting from Bucky and the exit.

“Now, I never want to see you around her or this place ever again. Got it?”

“Yea man, I get it! Just let me go,” Clint pleaded.

“Everything alright here?” Steve’s voice sounded from the hallway entrance.

“Yea. Clint here was just leaving. Mind walking him to the door?”

Steve took a moment to assess the situation behind speaking in a casual tone, “Not at all. Come on Clint.”

Clint’s eyes seemed to go wide when he took in the even more massive man. Steve clasped a hand on Clint’s shoulder and guided him out of sight. Letting out a long breath, Bucky closed his eyes and counted to ten, calming himself before turning back to Emily.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking a moment to scan his eyes over her.

Emily nodded, biting her lower lip and leaning against the wall behind her.

“No, you’re not. Do you need me to wait for you to get off and walk you home?” Bucky asked, lifting her right arm up to look at it more closely. No bruises. Yet.

“I’m, uh, I’m actually already off. I was headed out of the bathroom when he cornered me,” Emily said, rubbing at her face.

“Okay, let’s get you home then. Come on.”

Bucky and Emily left Goody’s after he explained everything to Steve. His best friend didn’t seem upset about cutting their night short at all. Instead, he told them to make it home safely and that he also made sure Clint would not be coming around any time soon. They walked in silence, the only thing keeping the darkened street alight, the soft yellow lights of streetlamps and porchlights. The walk was very reminiscent of the last time they had found themselves walking the streets of Pocatello late in the evening. The only thing different this time was the lack of Trixie by their side and Bucky’s arm slung over her shoulders protectively. She needed someone to take care of her in that moment. He knew solely from the fact that instead of shying away from his touch, she leaned into it all the way to her apartment.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she lived close to him. Her complex was only about a half mile from his house. The manufactured building held no personality, the white siding and grey trim creating uniform replications of the same apartments. However, Emily knew exactly where she was going, leading him towards her apartment with a practiced ease. When she unlocked her front door, she walked right in, leaving the door open. Bucky took this as an invitation to follow her. When he stepped into her place, he found it to be surprisingly lacking in any sentimentality. In fact, it looked half empty. No pictures hung on the walls. No nick-knacks or keep sakes. Just furniture and the odd piece of decoration. It was messy, but not too messy. The small dining room table was clear, but the coffee table held notebooks, pens, and her laptop. A pile of blankets and pillows sat on the single couch in the living room.

As if sensing where his gaze was focused, Emily spoke over her shoulder as she disappeared into a back hall, “You can have a seat on the couch. Just shove the blankets out of the way. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky made his way to the couch, picking up the patchwork quilt. The fabric was soft in his hand, the cotton material aged in just the right way. The individual squares were neat and colorful and held a warmth that Bucky only felt as a child when he visited his grandparents’ house. The intimacy of the quilt overwhelmed him. It was too personal. The situation felt too personal. He shouldn’t be there.

Just as he made to drop the quilt and walk towards the door, Emily reemerged donning a pair of sweats and fuzzy socks.

“Hi,” Bucky said, his mouth dry. Something about seeing her like this, looking so small and vulnerable, felt both wrong and horribly right.

“Hi,” Emily responded, walking towards him and giving a quizzical look at the quilt and then him.

“Oh, I was just admiring it. It’s really beautiful, the quilt I mean.”

Emily pulled it from his hands, hugging it to her chest as she sat down on the couch, “Thanks. It was my grandma’s.”

There was a long pause, a heavy weight filling the space between them.

“Do you wanna’ talk about it?” he asked.

There was a long pause as Emily tried to decide whether she wanted to discuss the events that had occurred that night. Bucky waited with bated breath. Then, with a deep sigh, Emily began to talk.

“We met the summer before the second year of my PhD. Mutual acquaintances. Department barbeque. He seemed nice. We moved in together after a year. And then a year later, a month and half ago to be exact, I found him in our bed with his lab mate, Sharon.” Emily picked at the quilt in her lap and brought her feet up onto the couch, turning towards him. “I kicked him out the same day. Haven’t spoken to him till tonight.”

Bucky was quiet, opting to simply allow her to tuck her feet below his thigh and listen.

“At first, I was upset, but as time’s gone on, I’m realizing that I probably wasn’t upset for the right reason. I felt hurt. But not because I loved him. I should have loved him. I think. We were together for so long. We lived together. But…” She laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I don’t usually…Nat says I like to bottle things up and make bad jokes at my own expense. I don’t—I don’t usually…”

Bucky found himself reaching out and placing a hand over hers. He had no idea why she felt comfortable enough to open up to him, but he was touched that she did.

“What a dick. Doesn’t matter if you loved him or not. Or if he loved you or not. You made an agreement and he broke that. It’s no one’s fault but his own. You deserve a lot better than that guy, trust me.” The words he spoke were true. She did deserve a lot better.

Emily turned her hand over, her fingertips brushing against the palm of his hands. The touch sent his pulse racing. A burning fire igniting beneath the surface of his skin everywhere her fingers brushed.

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” breathed Emily. Her eyes focused on the movement of her hand and Bucky’s in turn as he moved his hand in sync with hers. Fingertips to fingertips. A ghostly touch.

Bucky chuckled lightly, “Are you ever going to call me Bucky?”

“No,” Emily responded, a small smirk on her face.

“So just Dr. Barnes forever?”

She was quiet, a pensive look on her face as she ceased the dance of their hands and threaded her fingers through his.

“How about James?” she asked.

Bucky’s heart clenched. A hand wrapped around it tightly, squeezing and squeezing. The sound of his name, his given name, slipping past her lips and rolling off the tip of her tongue caused a visceral reaction within him. The front of his jeans tightened, and arousal shuddered through his body.

“Say it again,” he commanded, voice gravely with need.

He heard the sound of Emily’s breath catching in her throat before a soft “James” passed her lips. Hand still gripping hers tightly, he used it to pull her forward and onto his lap. Eyes wide with surprise, her chest heaved, and body trembled as she braced her hands on his shoulders.

“Again.”

“James.”

They leaned towards each other, noses touching and lips a whisper apart. The hot, heavy mix of their breaths shared between them. He should stop. He was no longer crossing a line of propriety in mind. He was crossing a real line. Everything told him to stop. The voice in the back of his head was a distant scream that shouted: ‘She’s your student’, ‘You’re her advisor’, ‘It’s inappropriate’, ‘It’s a liability to your position’, ‘What about Diane?’. But with the feel of her hips in his hands and her hair tickling his face as she leaned over him the voice moved farther and farther into the recesses of him mind.

“Again.”

“Ja—”

Emily was cut off by the shrill ring of a phone in the kitchen. They both jumped, pulling away from each other as if the phone itself caught them in the middle of a nefarious act. Bucky released her waist, his hands falling to his sides as Emily stood and ran to the kitchen.

“Hello? Nat, hey. What’s up?” Emily’s voice lilted from the kitchen, breathy with a small hint of panic. “Yea, I’m fine. I just got home a few minutes ago.”

Bucky stood, removing the quilt that had made its way onto his lap and folded it, before gently placing it back on the couch.

“Oh, Steve told you what happened?”

He sighed, looking around the living room and then back towards the kitchen before making his way towards the front door. Quietly, he exited the apartment, closing the door behind him. The chilly bite of the late night air sank through to his bones as he walked home, trying to make sense of what just happened. By the time he made it to his front door he still didn’t know if he should thank Natasha or advise Steve to break up with her. But one thing was definitely clear, he had crossed a line and there was no going back.

Love and Academia Taglist:

@is-it-madness

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#love and academia #fan fiction #fan fic #bucky #auprofessor!bucky #auprofessor!buckyxofc #ofc #buckyxofc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #smut #angst #mutual pining

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sarcasmoverlordxo · 5 years ago

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I started a Pirate!Avengers AU with the intention of making it a BuckyxOFC but it somehow turned into a SamxOFC and I have no regrets

#avengers #avengers au #buckyxofc #sam wilson

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altagraye · 4 years ago

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Alta’s Masterlist

Alta’s MASTERLIST

Bucky Thangs:

Oneshots:

Big Girl Words: (SMUT! MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ONLY!)

Series:

Bucky x Pregnant!Reader:

How to Save a life pt 1

How to Save a life pt 2

Status: temporarily discontinued

Headcannons/Drabbles:

note: i really dunno what these are but alas, they are here for your consumption

Headcannon/Drabble pt 1

Headcannon/Drabble pt 2

Headcannon/Drabble pt 3

Status: temporarily discontinued

Stucky x Y/N Thangs:

Series:

Stuck (A/B/O):

A/B/O- Stuck pt 1

A/B/O- Stuck pt 2 (WARNING! contains SMUT! MINORS DNI!18+ONLY!)

A/B/O- Stuck pt 3

A/B/O- Stuck pt 4

A/B/O- Stuck pt 5

Status: ongoing

Time After Time (A/B/O)

World building notes part 1: Characters

World building notes part 2: Rules

World building notes part 3: ASD

Excerpt 1- ‘Not good enough’

Part 0.5: Prologue

Part 1: Three Fabrics in Time

Status: Ongoing

Bucky x Y/N & Steve x Y/N:

Series:

WARNING!: The below series contains dark subject matter and SMUT, MINORS DNI! +18 ONLY!

Through a Glass, Darkly pt 1: Go ask Alice

Through a Glass, Darkly pt 2: Adjustment Therapy

Through a Glass, Darkly pt 3: Stolen Goods

Through a Glass, Darkly pt 4: The Mare

Through a Glass, Darkly pt 5: Wild Horses

Status: Ongoing

Chris Evans, Other roles:

Series:

Curtis Everett x OFC!Pyrrah

Snowpiercer (film, 2013):

Damnation part 1

Status: Ongoing

Chris evans fics:

Chris takes care of you when Aunt Flo visits.

Dean Thangs:

Series:

(Alpha!Dean x OFC! Omega!-Maia)&(Alpha!Sam x OFC!Omega!-Maia) *See warnings!

Big Big Love pt 1: Strawberry Wine

Big Big Love pt 2: Heat of the moment *SMUT*

Big Big Love pt 3: Heart-Shaped Box

Big Big Love pt 4: Nutshell

Big Big Love pt 5: No sleep ‘till Brooklyn *SMUT*

Big Big Love pt 6: Landslide

Big Big Love pt 7: Whiskey Lullaby

Big Big Love pt 8: Right Here

Big Big Love pt 9: This Woman’s Work

Big Big Love pt 10: Angels on the Moon

Big Big Love pt 11: Send her my Love in Bedroom Hymns *SMUT*

Big Big Love pt 12: You've Got another thing Comin'

Big Big Love pt 13: Bad Blood

Big Big Love pt 14: Jane's Addiction

(Dean x Witch!reader!) WARNING! elements of post-r*pe! Minors DNI!:

The Ties that Bind pt 1

The ties that Bind pt 2

Status: ambiguous

Dean x OFC ‘Ari’ (Jo’s sister) WARNING! Elements of implied r*pe! Minors DNI!:

note: Sorry i write about such dark subject matter!! :(

The Other Harvelle Girl pt 1

Status: Ongoing

Alpha! Dean x Omega!OFC ‘Harper’ A/B/O

The Killing Moon pt 1

Status: Ongoing

Mini-Series:

Faith pt 1

Status: Ongoing

Discontinued works:

BuckyxOFC ‘Stella’

Sparrows on the Wind pt 1

Status: Discontinued

Comfort Characters (Various):

Oneshots:

Comfort

System Overload

Status: Individually completed

#masterlist #marvel #MCU fanfiction #supernatural #a/b/o universe #supernatural abo #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #spnfic #spn fic #Marvel MCU #omegaverse

436 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 5 years ago

Text

Touch My Hands and Heal Me (BuckyxOFC & StevexOFC)

So just a fun one shot to help me get over some writer’s block. I’ve had this idea in mind for awhile so I’m excited to finally get it out.

Warnings: Some swearing, violence.

Words: 6k

Touch My Hands and Heal Me

This was the last place Steve wanted to be on a Thursday night. Nothing against the bar itself but it had been a hellish week and all he wanted to do was relax in his suite in the Tower and pretend for 5 minutes that he was an average guy.

Which is probably why Sam dragged his ass to this bar.

And of course, Bucky tagged along even though he was just as exhausted. Either from a self-induced guilt trip or his belief in Steve's inability to stay out of trouble, Bucky grumbled but tucked his head down and followed silently. Jerk.

Sam led them down the streets of NYC to a little hole in the wall sports bar an air force friend recommended.

It always amazed Steve how easily people failed to notice him without the suit and shield. Walking down the sidewalk with a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap on and a brown leather jacket over jeans, no one looked at him twice. Or Bucky in a black hoodie. Or Sam in a gray Nike long sleeve and ball cap. It was nice that there was somewhat a sense of esoteric, that only on the rare occasion was he swarmed now, or perhaps people were used to him. What it truly made him realize was that most people only really saw and cared about Captain America and not Steve Rogers. No one cared about the little guy from Brooklyn anymore. All they wanted was the glorified icon of patriotism.

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, willing the tension in his head and muscles to leave. Tony and him had a long meeting with Senator Thaddeus Ross today and when it finally concluded, he fled to the gym to make use of the weight bags. He probably would be receiving a bill from Tony because of all the busted bags he left behind. The man was a genius, you would think he would have reinforced them long ago.

Apparently he needed a drink- according to Sam.

He was pleasantly surprised when he walked through the door of the bar -The Old Guys Tavern- and found it calm. It was a smaller establishment, nestled between a BBQ restaurant and a sporting goods store on a back road. It was a sports bar with several TVs showing different games playing, framed pictures all over the walls of different famous athletes, a few framed mirrors, a jukebox in the back corner near 2 pool tables. A long bar took up half of one wall, across from it several booths and a few scattered tables near the pool tables. It was simple and felt reminiscent of how bars used to be. The lights were dim but instead of feeling like a club -no matter what Natasha said he was NOT doing that again- it gave an illusion of privacy.

He quickly noticed that among the 23 people already there, most were male and either middle aged or elderly, with the leaning towards those with gray hair.

"I thought you two would feel at home here amongst your age group." Sam quipped, scanning the bar with a smile on his face.

"Does that mean we need to find a kindergarten for you?" Bucky retorted.

Steve just shook his head as Sam laughed.

They settled into an open leather booth, a Minnesota Vikings versus Green Bay Packers football game played on the TV across from them.

"You dragged our asses out here, you got first round."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "A'ight man, I see how it is. I try to help you have a social life and this is the thanks I get. See if I bring you out again, cyborg."

Steve watched Sam walk up to the bar before turning to his oldest friend, seated across from him. The dark rings under his eyes only confirming how the week had affected him too.

"I'm fine, Steve."

"Your face says otherwise."

The corners of Bucky's lips turned up for a moment. "I'll be fine. It's just…" He sighed heavily, running a hand through his long, dark hair.

"A reminder that we're in the wrong century?"

"Yeah...we shouldn't be here."

"I know, Buck. I know."

3 days ago they had attended Dum-Dum Dugan's funeral and it hit them both hard. He had been the last Howling Commando alive besides Steve and Bucky and it felt like a knife in the heart. They did not just lose a friend. It felt like the closing of a book. Another reminder of something they used to be a part of, something that they knew, was gone. Yet here they were, drowning in the murky waters of the 21st Century.

"Alright boys, here it is." Sam slid a glass bottle of Heineken to both of them while slipping next to Steve in the booth with his own. "You guys made plans for next week yet?"

"Clint said we could visit the farm. Natasha and Wanda will go, I'm certain." Steve said, idly rubbing the label as the condensation dampened his finger.

"Vision will go if Wanda goes." Bucky snorted, taking a sip of his beer.

"You sure it's alright if I leave? I can tell my family that something has come up. Can't promise they won't show up at the Tower with enough food to feed an army though." Sam smirked.

"No, you deserve to go see your family." Steve said, hoping to hide the pain in his voice. "Buck and I will figure out something." He hoped.

Next week was Thanksgiving, the first one Steve and Bucky would be together for since 1944. The one last year, Bucky had been in Wakanda, still working to get the trigger words out of his head. Thankfully Princess Shuri figured it out. Which reminded Steve to contact T'Challa soon to get an update -from his viewpoint- of the revisions of the Accords. Steve did not trust Senator Ross' update from earlier. That man had an agenda and clearly resented the need to keep the Avengers updated.

"I'll make sure to bring some of my mom's pumpkin pies back for you guys. Soon as I tell her the great Captain America ate the whole one last year, she will lose her mind."

Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck at the reminder. "I didn't realize it was to share. I thought Pepper bought it for the kitchen."

"Hey! Don't compare my momma's home-made, award-winning pumpkin pie to some cheap-ass, store-bought kind! I should kick your ass for that insult."

"Oh, I want to see that." Bucky deadpanned, keeping his eyes on the TV across from them.

Steve changed the subject before the bickering started. He knew it was mostly in good humor but sometimes it grated on his nerves. "Parker stopped by this morning to try out the new suit Tony made him."

"You still seriously considering using him on the field? He's a kid." Sam questioned.

"He took out both you and Buck at the airport."

"Alright, touché, but still. A damn kid."

"I told Tony if he keeps his grades up and practices hard with us, I won't fight it." Steve smirked. "But if he gets hurt, Tony has to deal with Aunt May."

That made them all chuckle. Once when Peter practiced with them, he had landed wrong and twisted his ankle. From what they heard, you would have thought Peter had lost a limb with how Aunt May berated Tony and fussed over her nephew. It had become a running joke amongst the team.

An hour passed, Steve and Bucky both having to take their turn buying the beers, as they chatted or just watched the games on the TVs. Everything had been going so well, which should have been a flashing beacon that something was going to happen. If this week had been any indication.

One of the guys who had been playing pool with a few others started their way. He was in his forties, slightly overweight, in business attire, looking like he got off work at an office and came out to grab a beer with friends. Steve had noticed him several times over the past hour glancing their way but paid no mind. No one else had approached them or even acknowledged them. Most likely someone trying to figure out how he recognized their faces.

He approached the table and stared at each of them before a toothy, crooked grin appeared. Looking back over his shoulder, he called over to his friends. "It is those goddamn Avenger shits. I knew it. Coming in here like they own the place."

"Hey, back off, man." Sam tried to keep his cool but Steve could see that the guy had gotten under his skin. "We are just here for a beer, minding our own business."

"You know, I bet all those stunts you pull, the "world-saving" and shit, it's all fake. You pretend, keep the masses happy and feeling protected while you just live like kings off government money. Yeah…I know the truth."

Before any of them could respond to the guy, about how very wrong he was, a new voice from the bar spoke up.

"Chuck, quit trying to start a fight. They could kick your ass without breaking a sweat."

The guy -apparently Chuck- glared over his shoulder at the speaker. "Shut up. No one asked you to get involved."

A woman probably mid twenties slid down off the bar stool she was sitting on and stalked their way. Steve can't help but watch her, feeling as if a hurricane was approaching. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her hazel eyes stared defiantly at Chuck. She wore a loose white t-shirt with some kind of symbol on the front and black leggings that highlighted all her curves and showed off her long legs. Combat boots and a dark leather jacket completed the look.

"Just cause you're still pissed doesn't mean you gotta start shit. Now, leave them alone, you're bothering them."

"We will leave. We didn't come here to start trouble." Steve injected, glancing between the man and woman standing at the end of the table.

She turned slightly to pin him with a pointed look that had him regretting his words and shutting his mouth. She turned back to the guy -Chuck- and they glared at each other for several long, awkward, tense moments before he huffed and took a step back.

"Bitch," he muttered but glared at her still, "probably going to let them all fuck you like the whore you are."

As soon as the last word spewed out of his mouth, she hit him with a right hook that left him half sprawled on the table beside them.

"Dee, no fighting. God, girl, get out of here!" The bartender called over, clearly exasperated as he ran his hand through his white hair.

"Sorry, Ray." She shrugged unapologetically. Flexing the fingers on her right hand, she turned back to Steve, Bucky and Sam. "Have a good night, boys."

Steve watched her walk out of the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chuck get up, spitting blood on the floor, with the help of one of his friends. He looked like he wanted to say something but his friend quickly dragged him back to the pool tables.

Perfect. Steve was not in the mood for a fight.

"Think she's ok?" Bucky was staring at her retreating form also, even when she disappeared from view. He turned back slowly to meet their confused looks. "That hit...might have broken something."

They sat in silence for a second before sliding out of the booth and heading out.

The air had a winter's bite to it but not yet unbearable. Although it took a lot for Steve to feel really cold now. Those rare moments always brought up painful memories of icy waters and darkness. Something he prefered not to think about.

They managed to glimpse her before she turned down another street. Simultaneously they started to jog to catch up. Thankfully not too many people on the sidewalk stopped to stare at three huge guys casually jogging at 10pm at night in jeans.

"Hey yo! Dee!" Sam called out as they turned down the street.

She stopped, slowly turning around to watch them approach with a single eyebrow raised. "You boys lost?"

"Naw, we wanted to see if you're alright. That was quite a punch."

Thank God for Sam's ability to always talk. Steve never thought he would be glad for that one day but right now he was. Staring at her, he felt tongue-tied.

She smiled, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers. "I'm fine. Not a big deal."

Steve could not help but notice her nails were painted a shimmery dark blue.

"Why did you do it?" They all looked at Bucky with his hands in his pockets as he spoke. "I mean, you didn't have to stand up for us. Hell, he has to weigh twice what you do. So...how come you got involved?"

"I don't like bullies."

"Ah shit, she's the female version of you, Steve." Bucky bemoaned, dragging a hand down his face.

She giggled, the sound rich and feminine, and Steve could not help but smile in response.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sergeant Barnes."

"Call me Bucky, please."

"Ok, Bucky."

"I guess you already know Steve and I." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your name Dee?"

She seemed to hesitate for a second, looking back over her shoulder. "Lydia."

"Nice to meet you, Lydia. Thanks for helping out back there."

"Oh believe me, it was my pleasure. I've been wanting to hit him for a while. I doubt Ray will let me back though."

"Cause you hit a rude customer? I'd think you're doing him a favor." Sam snorted.

"Ah no, I may have hit Chuck's cousin last week...broke his nose."

The three stared at her in varying degrees of amusement and shock.

"What? He was bad mouthing the New England Patriots. Tom Brady is my boy."

"Shit, doll, you're something else." Bucky laughed.

"Thank you. Now it's lovely to meet you all but I need to go. Tootles."

"Wait!" Steve was not sure why he stopped her except that some part of him was not ready to lose her yet. He took a step closer. "Where are you headed?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what he was getting at. "Home."

"Let us walk you. It's the least we can do."

"It's not that far, I promise. I'm sure you superheroes have better things to do. I'll be fine."

"Come on, Lydia, we got you kicked out. Let us make sure you get home safe, yeah?" Sam joined the petition.

She chewed her bottom lip, eyes scanning between the three of them before letting out a sigh. "If it makes you feel better."

----------

When Bucky went to the bar with Steve and Sam, his expectations were to keep an eye on Steve, taunt Sam and just pretend that he had actually slept the past five days instead of pacing or staring at a wall all night.

Watching a beautiful dame punch a guy to defend them… this night got a whole lot more interesting.

The four of them walked down the sidewalk together, Steve and Bucky behind Sam and her...Lydia.

"So, you know who we are and what we do," Sam said casually, "tell us about you."

"Well I get into fights at bars and I watch football. I'm not that interesting."

Bucky could not help but snort. A shared glance with Steve confirmed his own amusement.

"Alright. Who taught you to fight? You got a mean swing that clearly shows some training." Sam continued.

"My brother." She shrugged. "What were you guys doing out? I would think you'd have booze at the Tower or be more likely to go to a high-class, expensive bar instead of Ray's little place."

"Naw, we just wanted somewhere quiet and out of the way. Besides, if we break out any booze, Tony always somehow senses it and magically appears."

She laughed, and Bucky felt his heart lighten at the sound.

"Maybe we were hoping to meet someone as beautiful as you, doll." Bucky was not sure where the words came from, but for a moment he felt like the Bucky from the 40s who knew how to charm and flirt. A forgotten piece of him buried beneath the decades of trauma endured under HYDRA'S thumb.

She spun around to look at him, still walking backwards with a smirk and teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm far from beautiful but I'm more than happy to pretend for you."

He chuckled, he could feel Steve's curious eyes on him but he paid no mind. It felt good to remember this piece of him, to remind himself he was more than a damaged person, even for only a minute. "Dollface, you just gave the best right hook I've ever seen a dame throw. I'm certain that is the sexiest thing I've seen in a long time."

Laughing, she paused momentarily to slide to his side and kiss his cheek. Her arm slipped through his and they continued walking like nothing had happened.

Except something had happened.

With her touch, it felt like all his senses tripled in intensity. Her kiss...such an innocent kiss yet it set his blood on fire and brought out a warmth in his bones that even HYDRA could not freeze out.

"You go around kissing strangers often?"

She winked at Steve. "Only the cute ones."

"She called you cute, man!" Sam laughed.

Bucky pretended to scoff. "Cute...I'm not cute. Take that back." He nudged her with his elbow, thankful she was on his right side.

"Would you prefer devilishly handsome?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits…" Bucky shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. Steve's chuckling almost broke it. His blue eyes met her hazel and he realized he was glad they had met. She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way- Cupid's bow lips, button nose, soft features. She was tall for most women, about 5' 10" even in just combat boots. Yet it was the energy around and within her that made her stand out. She felt like joy...she radiated life...there was a sparkle in her eyes that had not been tainted by the evils of this world yet.

"Pain in the ass also fits." Steve muttered, walking on Lydia's other side.

"Punk."

"Jerk."

She slipped her other arm through Steve's. "I'm pretty sure 'trouble' is the best description."

"Now that I can attest to." Sam said, leading the group.

They walked another block in the same formation. Lydia between Steve and himself, her arms looped through theirs. They chatted, flirted and teased easily, like they had known each other their whole lives. It was odd but Bucky was not complaining. It felt good. He found himself hoping this was not the last time they would see her. The warmth infusing itself into him from her touch was addictive. Her laughter and smiles made the darkness in his mind slowly fade. If the shared looks between him and Steve just over her head meant anything, he knew Steve felt the same way.

"My apartment is just down the street. You don't have to walk me to the door."

"Trying to get rid of us?" Steve asked.

She just laughed and shook her head. "When did I become so lucky to have three such handsome gentlemen to escort me home?"

"When you slugged a guy to defend us." Bucky caught her eye and winked. "You're stuck with us now."

"I'm not complaining."

One moment they all are laughing and talking like the best of friends. In the next moment, everything changed.

A shot rang out.

Bucky could feel the bullet whizz between his and Lydia's head.

Shit.

In a split second all three guys went into defense mode. Steve grabbed Lydia, shielding her with his body as he pushed her against a brick wall in a side alley. Immediately, Bucky and Sam flanked him on either side. Without a word, Bucky pulled out a pistol for both Steve and Sam, handing them over, then retrieved one for himself. He knew after this, Steve would criticize the amount of weapons on him for just a run to the bar. Bucky did not plan on sharing about the amount of knives on him additionally. He did not want to worry Steve that much. The less he knew in this case, the better.

His eyes scanned the nearby rooftops. The trajectory of the bullet showed the shooter was somewhere above them. At least that narrowed his search. Somewhat. On the other hand, he doubted they acted alone. Why give away their position? Did the shooter just have terrible aim? Were their others? Why the hell did this have to happen now?

His breathing slowed, senses on high alert, eyes trained for any movement. He waited, listening intently for any sign of back-up. Quickly peeking around the corner, he noticed the side road they were on was deserted. It consisted of several closed stores on the side they had been walking on and across the street was apartment complexes. Logically there should have been someone walking around at this time. It was NYC, there was always someone awake. His eagle-eyes scanned around them, searching desperately for wherever that bullet originated from. Or for the others bound to be laying in wait somewhere around here.

He hated being shot at.

"Sniper, my ten o'clock. Apartment building, top floor, third window in." He reported, glancing behind him at the others after another peek around the side.

Sam faced the opposite way, keeping an eye on the other side of the alley, but nodded at Bucky's report.

Steve hovered over Lydia, who was crouched on the dirty ground. His eyes swept over the area and the switch from casual Steve Rogers to righteous Captain America was evident. Most likely wishing he had his shield.

"HYDRA?"

"Not sure." Bucky replied, grip tightening on his pistol. Of course when they were having a great time, those bastards would show up. Damn it. "You alright, doll?"

"Yea...yeah." She stuttered out, still crouched underneath Steve. Her eyes were wide but clear, breathing fast but manageable. His opinion of her increased. Although she seemed frightened, she was not panicking. A reaction most common in civilians being shot at for the first time.

Steve spoke to Bucky. "Think you can get him?"

"Not here."

"Go. We got your back."

Before he moved, a hand gripped his hoodie, surprising him. Following the hand that was holding him in place, he met her eyes.

"Be safe." She murmured, hazel eyes meeting his stormy blue in earnest.

"Just for you." With a wink, he slipped out the alley, keeping to the shadows and moved silently as a ghost.

It did not take long for him to get into position. He only wished he had his sniper rifle. Climbing some rickety, metal stairs attached to the back of a store, he swiftly placed himself across from the sniper on a rooftop. If he had more time, he would have preferred to go into the apartment and silently kill the sniper, but for some odd reason he felt like he was working against the clock.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breathe in.

Bang.

Holding the smoking pistol in the direction of the apartment, he waited. There did not seem to be any further movement. He wondered if he should go investigate, just to confirm. God, if this was HYDRA, he did not want to leave any civilians without protection. With the gunshots fired, he figured someone would have called the cops by now. Hopefully they would be useful with the civilians.

Racing back across the rooftop, he flew down the stairs ready to confirm the sniper's death. It was then a new sound drifted to him…and he bolted towards it. Heart racing within his chest.

Please no. He begged silently.

He turned the corner to see where the fight really was. The sniper had only been a diversion. Something to force them into the intended alley.

They had played right into the enemy's hand.

Twelve guys in all black, faces covered, made the crowded alley even smaller. One was on the ground lying still, a pool of blood growing beneath his chest. Three were cornering Sam, taking turns attacking him with batons. Six were actively fighting Steve, trying to take him down using tasers, yet they were never able to subdue him fully. Two had Lydia between them, both gripping one of her arms each as she struggled and thrashed to escape looking like a wildcat.

Please no.

Bucky threw himself into the fight, fear and rage pouring into his blood to fuel him. He tackled one of the men cornering Sam, a knife slipping in between the man's helmet and Kevlar, blood spurting from his neck. Bucky rolled off him, and in two strides jabbed a knife into the back of the knees of one of Steve's attackers. The man dropped, howling and unable to stand. Another swipe and kick brought another man under his knife, blood oozing where a kidney was.

"Lydia!" Steve cried, throwing one of his attackers against the brick wall behind him.

The two men were trying to manhandle her into a doorway but her twisting, kicking and flailing made it difficult.

Bucky threw his bloodied knife into the thigh of one of them. The man stumbled, almost dropping Lydia, who cried out at the harsh treatment. Before the other man could raise his own pistol, Bucky grabbed it with his metal hand and crushed the end. Pure rage filled him at the thought of them trying to take her. He punched the man, now holding the useless gun, in the side of the head with his metal arm. The man dropped like a rock. The pistol bounced on the ground when it fell from his hand.

In a fluid motion, Bucky yanked the knife out of the other man's thigh and kicked him in the head. The man's head rocked back further than humanly possible with a cracking sound.

Silence hung over the alley after Steve and Sam knocked out or killed their attackers. Bucky stood there for a long moment, surveying the carnage around him, and trying to steady his breathing. His hands shook slightly. Blood was splattered on his black hoodie and jeans. It had been so easy -too easy- to take the lives of those men. Even though he did it to protect Steve, Sam and Lydia...his hands never felt clean. Would he ever be clean? Would he always be a monster?

"Bucky?"

His rage evaporated at the soft whimper of his name.

"It's ok, doll. I got you." He pulled her into his arms, away from the bodies of the men who tried to take her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest while his own arms held her close. She trembled but if it was from fear or fading adrenaline, he was unsure. Murmuring soothing words to her, he ran a hand up and down her back in comfort.

Why did this have to happen tonight?

He glanced back over to see the spread of bodies on the ground, all wearing black clothing that looked vaguely military. Nothing like what HYDRA usually wore. Sam was on the phone, probably calling the fellow Avengers for clean up and to scout the area. Steve was stepping over the downed men, coming to his side.

"Are you hurt?"

Bucky shook his head, his eyes scanning over his best friend. "You good?"

"Yeah, she ok?"

Lydia turned her head, reaching an hand out to place on his forearm. "I'm fine...thank you."

Steve patted her hand on his arm but did not remove it. He glanced around once more before meeting Bucky's eyes. "This doesn't...these men don't seem like HYDRA."

"I noticed. Wrong weapons and fighting tactics. More like mercenaries."

"Mmmm." He rubbed the back of his neck before looking at Lydia, still in Bucky's arms. "They seemed pretty intent on taking you. Any reason why?"

That question had itched at Bucky too. HYDRA would be more interested in taking himself and Steve. She had been the focus of this attack. He shuddered to think what would have happened if they let her walk home alone.

"No...no...I don't recognize them."

"It was a long shot. Well I think you should stay with…" suddenly Steve's eyes widened and he recoiled. A second later, blood soaked his white t-shirt in the middle of his chest.

Then the sound of a muffled shot rang out in the alley.

Bucky glanced over to see one of the downed men Steve had been fighting, on his knees, pistol extended. He staggered to his feet and took off back on the side road.

"Sam!" Bucky cried, pointing to the escaping man.

The Falcon did not hesitate. He raced after the man, a snarl on his face, eyes determined.

Turning back to his best friend, disbelief clouded his mind as he saw all the blood soaking Steve's shirt.

No.

NO!

Steve placed a hand on his chest, a dazed look on his face as he pulled it back and watched the blood drip off his skin. Ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees, still staring at his hand.

"No, no, no! Damn it, Steve! NO!" Bucky moved to his side, practically ripping the leather jacket off Steve's shoulders and tearing the t-shirt in two to see how extensive the injury was. The bullet had entered Steve's upper back, almost hitting his spine and exited the middle of his chest, leaving a gaping hole. Blood poured out, leaving trails of red on Steve’s torso.

"Sorry, Buck."

"No, no. Don't you start that shit. You'll be fine. Damn super soldier shit is good for something." He tried to staunch the blood flow with Steve's ripped shirt but the training in the back of his mind told him it was useless. His lungs would be filling with blood now. It would take a miracle to save him. Yet Bucky did not stop his first aid. He refused to let his best friend die. He couldn't...he could not live without Steve. They had only just found each other again. He couldn't...God, please no, not Steve...he had to live. Bucky was not ready to be alone again.

Lydia slipped to Steve's other side. Gently she took his bloody hand and clasped it between her own. Tears coated her cheeks as she watched.

"Buck…"

"No, stop talking. Everyone is on their way. Sam called them. It'll be fine."

"I need you to…"

"Nope, don't even start trying that speech."

Steve rolled his eyes, blood beginning to taint his lips. "Jerk."

"Punk."

"Steve, look at me." Lydia stated. Both soldiers watched her, her commanding tone unable to ignore. "You're going to be alright but you'll still need to rest for a while, ok?" She glanced over at Bucky, a fire burning in her eyes. "Hold him steady."

What?

He did not have time to question her before the strangest thing happened.

Lydia leaned forward and pressed her lips to Steve's bloodied ones. One of her hands cradled the back of his head, as her kiss deepened. Even on the brink of death, Steve had no problem reciprocating. His bloodied hand cupped her cheek, leaving behind a stain on her skin. Their lips moved as if they had done this before...no hesitation...no awkward fumbling… What started off as a soft caress was turning into something more heated.

Bucky momentarily felt like a voyeur and was beyond confused. Steve should be saving his breath, not exerting himself. Damn that looked like a great kiss though.

The kiss lasted only five seconds and when they separated, both were breathing heavy like it had been far longer. Her lips were tainted red now, but her eyes shone brighter like starlight caught in her irises.

She looked at Bucky, tears streaming down her cheeks unashamedly. "Take care of him." Quickly she leaned over Steve, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s hoodie, and gave him a hard kiss on the lips before standing up and dashing away.

"What….LYDIA!" Bucky yelled after her, watching her run down the alley and turn onto another street. Part of him wanted to chase after her and demand answers but a cough from Steve diverted his attention.

"Hey, it's ok. They will…."

"Look." Steve interrupted, motioning at Bucky's hand.

He glanced down to see scraped knuckles, probably from when he tackled one of the men. Not a big deal. The serum would heal them within a day. Yet they were healing...immediately...right before his eyes. Within seconds, they looked completely normal, only Steve's blood marred them.

What?

Immediately, Bucky pulled the torn shirt from Steve's chest, gaze locked onto the exit wound that would surely kill his best friend. A gush of blood should have resulted from the compact being removed from the wound, blood allowed to flow freely once again. Yet nothing happened. Dried blood caked his chest turning a dark red but there was nothing bright red...nothing fresh.

"Holy shit."

In the next moment, Bucky felt as if the world tilted off its axis.

The wound slowly began to heal. Muscle and skin grew and reattached. The once graying complexion that Steve wore was returning to a healthy pink. His breathing deepened, not short, rapid breaths of dying lungs. Steve's blue eyes stared at Bucky, mouth gaping open. Curious and a bit frantic, Bucky peeled the shirt off Steve's back to see the entry wound. Both holes, once profusely bleeding and killing his best friend now looked like they were weeks healed. Some redness around the sites and fresh skin sealing the holes but still tender.

WHAT?!?!

"Steve…." He did not know what else to say. His oldest friend, his best friend, his brother...he was dying...and Bucky could not save him. It was his worst nightmare come to pass. The very thing he dreaded most. Now though…

Steve stared back at him wide-eyed before turning his head to look down the alley where Lydia fled. "She healed me….she saved…" He looked back at Bucky. "Who is she?"

"I'm not sure…"

"We need to find her."

Steve started to get up but Bucky pushed him back down. "You were just shot, punk. She said to rest."

"We can't let her get away! What if more of these mercenaries find her?!"

"We'll look for her. Wait till the others get here. I'll go with Sam." Bucky held Steve's gaze until he relented, slumping back onto the unforgiving, concrete ground.

The sounds of the city enveloped the quiet of the alley- car horns, sirens blaring, someone singing loudly the next street over. The two sat there, waiting and thinking. Both of their minds struggling to fully comprehend what just happened but desperate to chase after her.

"You just want another kiss, huh?"

Steve chuckled, rubbing a hand over his chest and wincing. "That was some kiss. It felt like electricity going through my veins."

Bucky thought of his own quick peck and how it felt like a shock hitting him. "Yeah. That's some dame."

"Find her, Buck. I don't…" He sighed.. "It felt...no, she felt right."

All Bucky could do was nod. He prayed she stayed safe until they could find her. Something in his gut told him they needed her. He looked down the alley once more, wondering where she went and who she really was.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Bucky Barnes #bucky/ofc #steve rogers #steve/ofc #Sam Wilson #one shot #probably #mzwrites

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aingealcethlenn · 4 years ago

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Marvel Masterlist

Marvel Movies/Marvel Comics/Marvel TV Shows

SERIES/MULTI-PART WORKS::

Finding Home BuckyxOFC *Complete* Double Agent Tony Stark Sister OFC *Complete* Dark Angel Clint Barton Sister OFC/BuckyxOFC *In Progress*

ONESHOTS::

No Pairing

Steve Rogers/Captain America Things I Can’t Say

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier I Hope *Part 2 - in planning* Just Another Night What I Got

Tony Stark/Iron Man

Thor Odinson

Bruce Banner/Hulk

Clint Barton/Hawkeye

Loki Laufeyson

#marvel universe #marvel masterlist #marvel fandom #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfic #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tony stark #iron man #thor odinson #bruce banner #hulk #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson

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your-highnessmarvel · 4 years ago

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METICULOUS - PART ONE

A/N: Chapter one, let’s go! a little intro, but this WILL get darker in the upcoming chapters. this isn’t a 100% soft fic. there will be more dub!con action, so if that’s not your thing, i do not suggest investing in this story. Otherwise, let’s hit it!

Chapter Warnings: soft!dark!bucky, mentions of stalking, mentions of animal neglect, language

Gifs are not mine!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

PART ONE

Bucky brushes the crumbs from his dark blue cotton sweater, savoring the last of his croissant that, frankly, could have been out of the oven probably three days ago. It’s so stale. His tongue is dry, and as he swallows the last crumbs, he realizes he’s parched for a good glass of water.

He makes his way towards the back gate. He hates the front gate, the front lobby, the fucking elevators. His new condo complex is filled to the brink with fresh-faced graduates who think yoga in the lobby at six in the morning is cool, and young lawyers who care more about their style than the case they’re handling. Bucky has a few skills in... stalking, and he’s followed, on more than one occasion, a few of his fellow tenants. They are not as professional, immaculate, and put together as they portray. Most of them are late on their bills, don’t know how to cook for themselves (evidence enough in their garbage), and are not as vegan as they say they are.

The back gate to his new, government-issued condo leads to the short but quaint backyard that everyone can share. Let me rephrase. It is a fully furnished back yard, with an outdoor pool in the summer and a patio, for a condo complex of 100 units. It’s chaos.

But in the early hours of morning, there is only Savannah filming her morning yoga and Youssef on the jump rope. The hot summer rays are beginning to heat the outdoors as Bucky lounges the wall, desperate to not be spotted. He hates interacting with these people. They only talk about themselves.

“Meatball!”

The back door, which leads to the only staircase Bucky ever uses, flies open, and a girl comes running out, screaming. She slams brutally into Bucky, knocking the breath from his lungs, and by instinct, by the things put in him without his consent, he robotically wraps an arm around her shoulders and hauls her against him.

“Meatball!”

She struggles against him, messy hair getting into his face, and Bucky realizes she’s in a panic and releases her. She smells of clean soap and... flowers.

Bucky watches her tentatively. She’s wearing pajama shorts that cover barely anything at all, a loose camisole, and a short pink vest.

She stares at Bucky with big, wide eyes drinking in the first rays of morning sun. “Did you see a tiny little cat?” she asks, her voice roach, breathless. She’s probably been running.

Bucky shakes his head.

She’s beautiful, he realizes.

“He’s tiny!” she sobs, looking around. By now, she’s garnered the attention of jump-rope-man and yoga-girl. “Have you two seen a tiny little brown kitten?” she calls to them. They both shake their heads, exchanging a concerned look.

“Oh, God,” the girl mumbles, looking around. Her eyes are red from crying, her lips bitten raw.

Bucky feels the beginnings of pity and empathy build between his ribs. It’s numb, as it always is, because HYDRA took his ability to feel, and as his therapist said, it is up to him to harbor any emotion in order to feel better.

He takes a breath, biting the inside of his cheek. “Where did you see him last?” Bucky asks.

The girl turns to him, as if unaware of him even if, seconds ago, she was pressed up against him, albeit briefly. She frowns, raking a hand in her messy hair.

“Uh, in my condo,” she sniffs. “I left the door slightly open to get to the chute, and when I came back, he was gone.”

“And he’s a kitten?” Bucky asks.

She nods. “Yeah, he’s two months.”

Bucky gestures towards the stairs. “Then he wouldn’t have taken the stairs.” The girl nods, completely trusting him, and Bucky finds that he likes that, that he likes her dependency on him. “He’s too small. He’s probably in the hallway. Or hiding.”

She bolts for the stairs, Bucky behind her. “I’m on floor eleven,” she says, and Bucky groans. She couldn’t have been on an even higher floor?

By floor five, the girl is panting, slowing, sweat evident on her brow. Bucky watches in silence, begging his mind not to take him there, to where his eyes want to go. To where his mind is titillating towards. He’s careening, holding onto the imaginary railing in his mind.

She smells so good, and in the confined space of the stairwell, he can smell her everywhere. His heightened senses beg him to turn, to touch her, to taste those red lips, feel her skin that now glows from her exertion.

“I’m Elora,” she breathes, ripping him from his reverie.

He stares down, back at her, where she slowly follows behind him. “Bucky,” he says. “Or James.”

“You have two names?” she asks, her voice between sarcasm and true curiosity.

“Your cat’s name is Meatball,” he deadpans.

She snorts. It’s cute.

She’s evidently out of breath and physically drained by floor ten, and Bucky gives slight encouragements for her to continue. Her hair, loose and messy, has begun to stick to her cheeks, but she is more adorable now. Her face glows from the exertion, and Bucky watches her neck as she strains up the last stairs.

“I didn’t think about coming back up when I came running down,” she breathes as she reaches for the door to her floor.

Bucky grimaces. “We should have taken the elevator.” But he hates elevators. The space is so small, confined, and he can’t feel the air in his lungs nor on his skin. It’s like being buried alive. But he doesn’t tell her that.

She chuckles breathlessly as they emerge into the hallway. The rug is dark brown, just like on his floor. The walls are pristine, lights on the walls, on the ceiling. If Meatball was here, they’d find him.

Elora takes a second to catch her breath, leaning against the wall. Bucky lingers by, not even out of breath.

“Are some sort of marathon runner?” she asks between gulps of oxygen.

Bucky snorts. “No.” He puts his hands in his pockets, trying not to watch her chest heave up and down with every labored breath she takes. “Just fit, I guess.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Why Meatball?” Bucky asks, curious, unable to keep himself from asking her questions.

Elora swallows hard, finally starting to even out her breathing. “Well, you know that apartment block on the other side of the street?” she asks, jutting her chin. Bucky nods. “On the basement ground, there’s an apartment with, like, a whole zoo in there. I’ve never seen the owners. But I’ve seen all the animals. Sometimes I…” she trails off, laughing, pushing herself from the wall.

She starts to walk past him, towards her apartment, and Bucky follows. “Sometimes you what?” he insists, following a few steps behind, head down as if to appear uninterested but he’s shimmering with curiosity. What does this girl do on her free time?

She laughs again. “Well, you don’t work for the police, do you?”

Bucky raises a brow. “Are you murdering innocent people, animals?”

She stops, turns, looks up at him with a frown. She’s so close, he can smell her so much, see every detail of her skin, her eyes, her lips. “No,” she says. “I just go and… rescue those animals. You should see the living conditions.” She resumes walking. Bucky follows.

“So,” he begins, “if I got this straight. You break and enter into an apartment and steal their pets?”

She waves him off.

And just as they turn the corner of the hallway, Elora exclaims, “Meatball!”

She rushes towards a small, tiny little speck of brown fur curled up in front of door 1116. Elora picks up the kitten, cradling it to her chest, cooing and kissing it.

Bucky sighs. “He is very cute,” he acknowledges, eyeing the tiny creature with a small smile. Elora makes a noise of agreement. “So you stole Meatball from the apartment over?”

She rolls her eyes again, a behavior Bucky finds endearing.

“He was starving in there,” Elora mumbles. “I’d been in the apartment a few times. Giving the animals food. But this little guy here, I found nibbling on a rotting meatball. I just… took him home.” She looks up at Bucky with a daring expression, as if challenging her to say anything else about the wrongs of breaking and entering.

Bucky just shrugs, intent on knowing how exactly this girl breaks into homes to free dying cats from their neglectful owners.

“Hence the name,” Bucky mumbles.

She chuckles, nodding, and moves towards her door. “Well, mister James or Bucky… or whatever,” she says with a bright smile, stealing something in Bucky that makes him want to barge through that door with her. “I’ll see you around.” She gives a shrug of her right shoulder, tossing Meatball around in her arms, and turns to enter her condo. Bucky glimpses a soft, grey couch and the smell of vanilla.

“Yeah,” he breathes, steeling his gaze, hearing the soft click of her door closing.

He walks down the hall, back to the stairwell, the empty, grey, echoing stairwell, and shuffles his way down.

On floor five, he takes out his phone and dials Sam.

Ever since Sam took on the mantle of Captain America, the man has been busy, to say the least. But he always picks up when Bucky calls, and Bucky is counting on it.

“Wilson!”

“God, that’s arrogant,” Bucky replies in a low, mocking tone.

“Mister Barnes,” Sam sing-songs, chuckling. “What a pleasure. What you been up to, man?”

“Nothing.” Lie. “I’m going to need some gear.”

There’s a silence, a very concerned, friendly silence. “For what?”

Bucky hesitates. “Surveillance.”

“For who?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

Sam chuckles. “Damn right, I am,” he answers. “Tell me who’s it for.”

“There’s an apartment building on the other side of my new place that is neglecting their animals.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Well, anything for you, Mister Animal Savior.” Sam chuckles but Bucky can hear the concern, the fear of being lied to, in his voice.

“I prefer Sir Pet Rescue,” Bucky retorts, but there’s barely any humor in his tone.

Because he’s lying. He has no intention whatsoever to surveil that apartment.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnesxofc #buckyxofc #buckyxoc #bucky x oc #bucky x ofc #soft!dark!bucky #soft!dark!bucky barnes #dark!buckybarnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #angst #fluff #bucky

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sarcasmfics · 6 years ago

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Stuck in the Middle: Chapter 11

Summary: Sarah is a scholarship recipient for Stark Industries where she plans on doing her pre-thesis research. But when she falls, quite literally, into the lives of two super soldiers, are her butterflies just a crush? Or something more? And when her research is used for nefarious purposes, will she lose the trust of not only the Avengers, but the two men she’s fallen for?This story contains mostly fluff, eventual StevexOC and BuckyxOC (poly relationship). There are no content warnings in early chapters. They’ll be listed as necessary.

AO3 Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s been sticking around and being patient with me and my absolutely slow updates! Enjoy chapter 11 and some Recon Steve!

Chapter 11

They’d dropped him off in a public airport where he ducked into the massive crowd of tourists and travellers, tucking his baseball cap low over his face. He’d dyed his hair a dark brown on the way and his scalp still itched a bit from the intrusive chemical, but he suppressed the urge and flagged down a cab that would take him to the old motel two towns over. He tipped the driver and hoisted his rucksack over his shoulder. The woman at the front desk smiled briefly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The fake name and ID were enough to get him a room for cash, and within a few hours of landing, he’d set up in the old hotel room.

Steve pulled off his cap and scratched at his scalp, cringing at the new color of his hair. He’d done it before, but he didn’t enjoy it very much. At least this one would wash out in the next few days, unlike the last time he’d unknowingly bought the permanent dye. The satellite phone Stark had made was thin and sat almost weightlessly in the pocket of his old jeans. He slid it out and refreshed the connection.

Arrived at base 0723

The message was answered shortly after:

Location confirmed. Daily updates required

10-4.

He tossed the phone onto the bed and began to unpack the rucksack, pulling out his backup weapons and recon gear. The room he’d requested had an ample view of the factory across the street, where intel had suggested the majority of the trafficking took place. The old folding chair across the room made for a decent seat beside the window which he covered with the old blinds. There was no movement outside, so he busied himself with checking his weapons, confirming each weapon was loaded (the safety on of course), and each knife was clean and smooth.

From a nearly hidden side pocket, he pulled out the picture he’d taken just weeks before, Bucky, Sarah, and him smiling with the costumed character. He’d hated to leave so soon, but when Fury had shown him the few photos they were able to get from their source, he knew he wouldn’t stand idly by. They were mostly women and children, most of them being sold into sex work while others were sold as servants to richer families. Steve shook his head, trying to focus on his mission and pushed the images out of his mind. Bodies thin from not eating, skin pale from lack of light. After everything that had happened, from the war he’d fought in, to the invasion of New York, he wondered how people could still justify such inhumane actions.

Movement caught his eye and he grabbed the long range camera, careful not to move the blinds as he snapped photos of a lone man entering the old factory. He couldn’t get anything except a small profile of his face, but it might be helpful later on. He itched to leap out, knock down the doors, and rescue everyone inside, but as Natasha said on the plane ride over, even if he saved one hundred people, the traffickers would just find another hub to work from. Their goal was to get as much information as possible. Trade routes and faces that the UN could prosecute and hopefully dismantle these organizations. He’d give them the locations and a specialized team would rescue the victims. After all, there was too much diplomatic red tape for them to go barging into a country and hunting down the wrongdoers. Steve still didn’t like the idea of having to wait, but that was the way the world worked these days.

There wasn’t any movement for a while, and Steve’s stomach started to growl in protest. Locking up his gear, he slid one of the knives into his boot before pushing the rucksack under his bed and locking the door. The evening had grown chilly and he pulled his hoodie closer to him, observing the old town. A few shops were scattered around, some down side streets, others on the main road. A few buildings had small apartments on the second floors where music and cigarette smoke drifted out of the open windows.

He settled on a bar, nodding to the bartender as he sat at a table against the wall. A woman, probably in her sixties, approached his table, depositing a beer before him.

“What are you eating tonight?” She asked in the local dialect. Steve recognized some of it, but he’d only studied the mainstream language.

“Uh… something hot.” He replied.

“You are not from this town?” She changed to English, smiling at his relief.

“No,” Steve shook his head as he opened the beer. “My mother is. I’ve just come from seeing her.”

“Ah. Why did you leave?”

“She always said I was a traveller,” he shrugged, drawing a laugh from the woman.

“I’ll get you something hot to eat.” As she disappeared behind the bar, she shouted something in the local dialect that sounded a lot like foreigner wants stew, but he couldn’t be too sure. He didn’t have many options, but whatever was cooking in the back smelled good, even to his growling stomach. While he waited, he surveyed the bar, wondering if any of the traffickers came by. If there was anything he knew about men in business, it was that they liked to talk about it over alcohol. Not unlike Tony, he thought to himself, chuckling quietly as he sipped his beer.

It was bitter, and he knew Bucky would hate it. Part of him wished it was Bucky on this mission, especially with the language barrier, but he knew it would be too risky. He was still fairly well known, and the metal arm, though black and easier to conceal, would still be noticeable. Besides, he worried it would hit too close to home for him.

“Something hot,” the woman said, appearing beside him with a steaming bowl that smelled too good for how the place looked.

“Thanks,” he nodded and she disappeared back behind the bar, calling out a hello as two others entered. Steve blew on the hot stew in his spoon and took stock of the new people. Two males, one dark haired and stocky, the other bald and average height. At first, he thought they were just neighbors, but when the bald man began flipping through a large wad of cash, he had a feeling they were more than just neighbors. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he slid the phone out of his pocket and feigned a text, angling the camera to snap a few pictures of the two men. He’d gotten the bald man’s face, but not the dark haired man.

The group chatted in a mixture of the main language and local dialect for a few minutes, the conversation moving between the health of family members, the profits of the business, and the weather until they paused, asking the woman about Steve.

“Here to see his mother,” she shrugged. “Sounds American.” Steve took the opportunity to snap another picture as the turned around to eye him up. Steve only nodded toward them, noticing their stair and greeted them in the broken language.

“Good evening.” The duo chuckled and responded the same, apparently deeming him unthreatening. The stew was good and filling with beef, or maybe another meat, potatoes, and vegetables. He enjoyed the taste, taking in the old photographs on the walls as the men chatted at the bar. He picked up a couple of keywords, though they were spoken quietly; at least there was one benefit of the super soldier serum.

“Large shipment… midnight… three weeks…”

“How soon… sell… merchandise?”

“Business… coming… day after.”

“Good.” With the business aside, they accepted the same stew and turned to other unimportant matters. Apparently they were soccer fans.

Steve finished his stew and approached the bar, handing the woman cash which she pocketed and thanked him in English. As he left, he felt two sets of eyes burn into his back.

Back in the hotel room, he pulled the satellite phone from his pocket and set a message.

Shipment said to arrive in three weeks. Potential buyer day after. Advise.

Steve sat back in the chair, watching the quiet building through the curtains and waited for an answer.

Thank you for reading! I can’t wait to do some more updates! I have some fun plans for the next few chapters!

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #StevexBucky #stevexofc #buckyxofc #polyamory #avengers #mcu #marvel mcu #stevexofcxbucky #ofc

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i-am-awkward-turtle · 6 years ago

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The Ballerina and the Soldier (Bucky Barnes x OFC)

So this is my first real story I’ve written and I hope y’all like it :)

Summary: A 1940′s AU where Bucky and Steve had another friend (actually Steve’s little sister) and her and Bucky were really close. She is a Ballerina and obviously he’s a soldier. This is sorta their story after the war.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of war, injuries, missing limbs, PTSD, mentions of smexy stuff later on but never explicit, anxiety and disproving families.

When she danced the world fell away. She let the music sweep her far away from the rest of the world, letting the music wrap her up safe from the pain and longing she felt so strongly. She danced to forget, if only for a while, the life that left her behind. She danced until all she could feel was the ache in her limbs instead of her heart. When the music stopped reality crashed onto her bringing only despair. Oh, how she missed the times when she danced for the thrill of being on stage for hundreds to see, and for the knowledge that the one who loved her was there watching and cheering louder than anyone else. If only she had convinced him not to go, she would be walking backstage to the one she loved with a bouquet of her favourite flowers waiting just for her and no one else. She had asked for a new dressing room only a week after he left, finding that the memories were too strong and the pain that followed was worse. She knew there was only the smallest chance she would ever see him again, yet the hope they would be reunited was still there, flickering like a candle about to go out.

When she danced the world fell away. The music filled the large, open space and many were more caught up in it than the girl on stage. He was one of the few who were enraptured in the girl’s fluid movements and elegant leaps and twists, he always was, whether she was dancing or not. His eyes followed her every move while he sat, barely on his seat, but when she stopped, and the cheering began, he shrunk back, the noise too much for his damaged mind. He doubted she knew he was even here, doubted she even knew he was back. Good, he thought, she doesn’t need my broken parts. One of those parts was his heart, broken since the day he left for the War, the day he left her behind. That day he promised he would find a way back to her, she was his home after all. That was before he was in the middle of the War, fighting day after day, almost losing hope of returning home. Everything changed when a bomb went off and ripped his body and mind apart, he lost hope of seeing his love again, of seeing his home again. Yet here he was, watching her dance so beautifully it brought tears to his eyes, along with the thought that he would never hold her again, at least not with both arms. As he walked out of the theatre he ignored the pitiful looks thrown his way, lost in his thoughts of her.

Every night she went straight inside their apartment, never once looking back at him. Tonight, felt different, the performance felt different, everything felt different. Tonight, he felt as though there was a chance, as small as it was, that he would get the courage up to say something to her. Probably just a simple “hello” but it was a step forward. She had other plans it seems. Just as they reached the apartment they used to live in together, Blake stopped walking and started speaking,

“Why have you been following me home?”

James looked around in a panic, there was no one else around, she must be talking to him. He shoved his growing fear away and thought of something to say to the girl he loved, the girl he abandoned three years ago to fight a war he didn’t believe in.

Startled, he said, “I just wanted to say hello to the beautiful dancer I left behind.”

Within seconds she spun around and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, tears soaking his shirt. All he could do was stand there, wrapped up in her. She must have noticed his lack of a reaction because she pulled away to look up at his face.

“What’s wrong James? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t notice?” pushing her away with his right arm, he gestured to the clearly missing limb. Not meeting her eyes, he says, “I’m not the same as I was before. I’m not whole.”

“What does it matter? You came back that’s all I care about.” He looked up at her, seeing that she really didn’t care about his missing parts. He saw love shining in her eyes, as bright as the day they first said ‘I love you’.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” She asked, hoping they could reconnect after so long apart.

“Yes please.” He laughed softly, he was home.

#Bucky Barnes #buckyxofc #1940's au

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hillywooddestiel · 7 years ago

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I just published "Chapter Nine" of my story "The Retreat". https://my.w.tt/2C9OpfqSqP

#fanfiction #avengers #avengersfanfiction #buckybarnes #buckybarnesxreader #buckyxofc #buckyxreader #civilwar #infintywar #jamesbuchananbarnes #marvel #ofc #wattys2018 #wintersoldier #books #amwriting #wattpad

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buckydoctorfics · 5 years ago

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So fun story, I'm finally working on a bunch of buckyxofc and am quite excited for you all to read it once its up

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your-highnessmarvel · 3 years ago

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Meticulous - part two

A/N: alright here we go! i love where this is headed, how bucky slowly transforms into the soft!dark!

Chapter Warnings: soft!dark!bucky, mentions of stalking, mentions of animal neglect, depictions of animal neglect, language

Gifs are not mine!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

PART TWO

The equipment Bucky ordered comes in a shiny metal box that reminds him of the time the Wakandans offered him a new arm, a new war. But this time, Bucky isn’t fighting a war. He’s not even fighting. He’s observing. He’s setting up the binoculars near the window. He’s fine-tuning the microphones to an earpiece and a recording device. He’s making sure the motion sensors properly record movement and register in his computer.

It's oddly reminiscent of some jobs he used to do for HYDRA. Although he wishes he could erase that part of his life, the time he spent observing and collecting data prove useful to him now.

The day outside is gloomy. The clouds seem to mock him, closing him into a space he’s been forced into anyway.

Bucky clucks his tongue.

“Has there been any dreams again?”

He turns to face his psychologist. She sits with a frown nettling her face, leg bent over the other, the tip of her shiny black boot white and apotropaic for Bucky.

“No,” he answers. Not since her. Not since Meatball.

“Are you having any sort of dream?” she asks, eyes briefly falling to her notepad duteously spread on her knee.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. Yes, he wants to say. So many. Of her and her big eyes and the way her smell seems to linger in the hall even after she’s left. Dreams of following her down a long, empty hallway, of pining her against a wall and watching the way her skin flushes, glows, under his stare.

“Not really,” he opts for, determining that confessing dreams of stalking a neighbor would not earn him points with both his psychologist and the government.

“Sam told me you ordered surveillance equipment?” she continues, chin in her palm.

Of course, Sam would not completely believe Bucky.

“There’s this neighbor,” Bucky starts, hands on his knees. “I don’t know who lives there. Honestly, all I’ve seen is their animals. And they’re being neglected. Left for days unattended. I sometimes see through the living room door that there’s no food.”

The doctor nods, writes, hums.

“Do you feel like that’s a good hobby to have, Mr. Barnes?” God, he hates when she calls him that.

“Animal rescue?” he tries, tone faking innocence.

She snorts. She sees right through his ruse. “Stalking.”

Bucky jerks ever the slightest. “It’s not that,” he groans. “It’s mostly… I feel useful, and I feel like I’m partaking in something good for once,” he sighs.

“Rescuing animals,” she says, writing something down in that little stupid fucking notepad.

“Yes,” he grits between his teeth. “I’m not waiting to kill someone,” he retorts, and immediately regrets it.

“Is that what you think I think of you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Sometimes.”

She smiles slowly. “I am only here to help you.” She readjusts in her seat. “And if you are constantly thinking that I’m here to undermine you, then this relationship won’t work. We won’t be able to move forward.”

He nods, biting back some remarks he should really keep to himself.

She stares at him for a few moments, then down at her watch. “Our hour is over, Mr. Barnes.” She settles back in her seat, scribbling some notes down. “Until next week.”

Bucky all but storms out of her office, past the receptionist who wishes him well, and out into the gloomy New York air. The office is a few blocks away from his condo, and he uses the time walking to keep his mind from conjuring images of strangling that woman to death.

When he gets to the back door of the complex, he notices a familiar figure coming his way. He schools his features into something more homely, warm, and magnetic. He tries to conjure the womanizer he was in the forties, but something about this girl, Elora, doesn’t make him want to be that: a jerk. He wants to be good to her. He knows he can be good to her.

“Hey,” he says.

She squints as she approaches him, and when she recognizes him, her face lights up. “Oh, hey!” She smiles and Bucky swears she’s the most beautiful creature on Earth. “James! Or Bucky.” She has a backpack on, the color of rust.

“It’s just Bucky,” he says, smiling, leaning a shoulder against the wall. She watches his nonchalance, and Bucky thinks he spies a moment of attraction flitting across her face. “Where you headed? Lost Meatball again?”

She chuckles, pushing hair behind her ears. Adorable. “No,” she says with a shy smile, crossing her arms across her chest. “Sorry about that. Or, I guess, thank you.”

Bucky nods with a faint smile.

“I’m just headed to that… apartment I told you about?” She’s acting cold, restrained now, as if she’s either afraid of him or afraid of what he’s going to say about her little jaunts next door.

“Still on that animal rescue mission?” he asks humorously.

That seems to dispel the tension in her shoulders, and she laughs. “Yeah, I’m going to feed them actually.”

Bucky nods, pushing from the wall. He can see the sparkle in her eyes as she assesses him. He knows she finds him attractive. He’s seen himself in the mirror a few times.

“Mind if I join?”

Her mouth parts and it’s the most adorable view Bucky has ever had.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, lifting a shoulder. “Always wanted to be the good guy.”

She laughs, unaware of the way Bucky stares at her with both hunger and longing.

“Alright, cowboy, let’s go!”

They walk across the street, and Bucky notices how Elora walks with her head high, not cowering and nervous. She’s done this before. She walks up to the basement sliding door of the aforementioned apartment and waits for Bucky to step beside her. From under the canopy of the upstairs balcony, her face is shadowed, cool, and she lifts a daring eyebrow to Bucky.

“So, what, do you know where the key is?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at the busy boulevard. “Or a barrette?”

She scoffs. Then she puts a finger to the knob and pushes, the door sliding open. Bucky smiles, holding laughter, and gives her an impressed raise of his brows.

“A woman with many talents,” Elora mumbles as she climbs in.

Once inside, Bucky closes the sliding door, and puts a hand to his mouth. It smells like excretion and rotting food. Or corpses. He wishes beyond anything that there are no dead animals here.

Elora behaves as if she lives here, bending down and retrieving food from her backpack. When she opens the bag, a few little kittens come stumbling into the messy, dirty living room. Bucky stands there, watching Elora crouched on the stained yellow carpet as she takes out cans of wet cat food.

“The dogs are in cages in the back room,” she says, jerking her chin towards the back of the apartment, and Bucky understands that as his cue to move. She hands him a bag of dog food, and when he takes it out of her hand, his finger brushes hers and fire licks up his palm. He tries not to fidget, or flinch away, but he’s wearing gloves, as always, to keep others from ogling his metal arm, and now he wishes more than anything that his flesh could have touched hers.

She doesn’t say anything about the touch. The gloves. She just shoves the bag into his hands and motions him to action.

He takes the dog food bag across the apartment, noticing the dirt stains on the kitchen floor, the mountain of rotting, dirty dishes in the sink, and that the walls are decaying.

The dogs, three pitbulls, are indeed in cages in what should have been the guestroom. Bucky holds back a gag. Some of the dogs have been left in their filth, and it stinks up the room. His heart squeezes at the sight of the animals laying down in tiny cages, their big bodies constrained to such a small enclosure. The dogs are looking at him, but none move. It as if they’re used to this: someone, anyone, not a master or friend, coming in and just feeding them.

“Heartless, right?”

Bucky turns and Elora stands in the doorway with a grey cat nestled in her arms.

“We should call someone,” Bucky says, opening the dog food bag, the dogs’ heads snapping up to attention.

“I’ve called animal health, rescue centers, even the police,” she adds. Then she shrugs. “They’ve all claimed insubstantial evidence. If I send pictures, they’re going to arrest me for B&E.”

Bucky nods, carefully opening the cage of the first dog.

“They don’t bite,” Elora says. “So, yeah, I come here sometimes and rescue some and send them to centers for neglected animals. Every time I come back, though, there’s more.”

Bucky groans, his heart burning, his head imagining scenarios of beating whoever puts these animals into such dire situations. Heartless fucker.

Bucky fills the first bowl and leaves the cage open. “We should take this one,” he says. “At least today. And tomorrow, we can come get the other one.”

Elora walks out and comes back in as Bucky is feeding the second dog. She hands Bucky a leash. “Feel free. She’s a female, by the way. I named her Claudia.”

Bucky snorts, closing the second cage on the other dog, heart wrenching as he sees the way the animal gobbles down food. How long have they been without food?

They feed the third dog, noticing burn marks on its haunches, and then leash up Claudia. She has difficulty walking, limping, her front paw badly injured from God knows what. Bucky follows Elora through the apartment, where she shows him the entire, disgusting situation. Bunnies in a cage with barely anything to do but sleep in their defecation. Birds in a cage left covered by a black, heavy cloak. More and more and endless kittens and adult cats. Bucky lets a few of the adult ones out of the back door, maybe to freedom or better homes, who knows.

As they walk across the street, Bucky helping Claudia along, the man can’t help but feel proud of Elora. His Elora. This incredible girl that risks her neck every time she walks into that apartment.

“Don’t ever go in there alone, ever again,” Bucky says as they near the parking of their complex.

She turns and frowns up at this man that she barely knows but appreciates. “Why?”

Bucky shakes his head, shakes the feeling from his bones, this feeling that wants to protect her from the world. He needs to bide his time. “Who knows when the owner can come back,” he answers. “They could be dangerous.”

She smiles, rolls her eyes, a behavior he will have to correct. “I can handle myself.”

Bucky’s shoulders tense. “I mean it,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth. “You have me now. Use that.”

She smiles again, all teeth and cheeks and giddy innocence. “Sure,” she pipes up. “Now let’s get to my car and get these babies to a rescue.”

#bucky barnes #bucky #soft!dark!bucky #soft!dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark fic #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #buckyxreader #buckyxofc #buckyxoc #bucky x reader #bucky x ofc #bucky x oc #dark!buckyxreader

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sarcasmfics · 6 years ago

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Stuck in the Middle: Chapter 14

Hello lovelies! I am super excited to share Chapter 14 of Stuck in the Middle!!

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Summary: Sarah is a scholarship graduate student at Stark Industries working on her dissertation. When she falls, both literally and figuratively, for two super soldiers (the DNA of one that happens to be her subject), how do they navigate this new polyamorous relationship? And when her research mysteriously disappears, will she lose not only their trust, but her scholarship and scientific merit?

*** I floated in that blissful state between deep sleep and consciousness, reveling in the warmth of the soft blankets and the familiar weight of the arm draped across my side. Bucky snored quietly, his front pressed against my back and I smiled to myself. It had been a long time since I’d shared a bed, and though it was so soon, it felt perfect. Sleep took over once more, softly dragging me into the comforting darkness.

The bed shifted behind me and Bucky’s arm disappeared, taking with it the warmth and weight that kept me in the deep sleep I was pulled from. Slowly, I turned over, squinting through the grey light that filtered through the curtains across the room. Bucky had sprawled out on the bed, the covers pushed down to his hips, his flesh arm resting beneath his pillow. At some point during the night, he’d taken his metal arm off, though I wasn’t sure how, and the tank he wore was twisted, revealing the small patch of dark hair just below his navel.

I missed the comfort of his heat and turned over, fitting myself just beneath his shoulder and drifted off to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat.

***

It wasn’t the sound of the shower that woke me, but the loss of Bucky’s now familiar warmth. I squinted through sleep-fogged eyes as the bathroom door opened and Bucky stepped through, towelling his hair with his flesh hand.

“Morning, Buck,” I smiled, stretching contently.

“Hey, doll,” he replied, pausing to toss the towel over his shoulder. “Sorry about… uh…” He nodded toward where his arm used to be, pushing his damp hair away from his face.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, climbing off the bed to press a kiss to his lips.

“Not everyone takes so well to my arm not being there.” The thought had crossed my mind when I’d snuggled closer to him; I didn’t know the metal appendage could come off.

“C’mere,” I said, stifling a yawn as I lead him back to the bed. “You don’t need to apologize, babe. This is who you are, a part of you, and you have no reason to be sorry.”

Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he pushed his wet hair back.. “Some people are bothered by it- whether it’s there or not. It’s almost like people can’t stand to see me without an arm, but at the same time they can’t stand one being there. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Bucky, you’re not making me uncomfortable, and if you were I’d tell you. Just like I hope you’d tell me if I did anything to make you uncomfortable.” He nodded quietly, watching as I reached over to wrap my arms around him. He did the same, burying his face in my neck. We stayed like that for a bit and I allowed my eyes to close, taking in his warmth and the smell of his fresh body wash. But it was more than that, it was something that was just so him that could never be replicated. A low grumble broke the silence and I pulled back to laugh as he blushed. “Hungry?”

“Very.”

“Let me get dressed and we can get something to eat?” He nodded and I stood to go, but before I could, he tugged me back to stand between his open legs.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “For caring so much.” With a quick peck on the lips, I made my way down to my apartment to get cleaned up.

The common room was empty when I returned, knocking quietly on Bucky’s door before heading inside. Immediately, the smell of coffee and waffles overtook me and I followed it to the kitchen where Bucky was cooking eggs while keeping an eye on a waffle maker on the counter. Glancing behind me, he offered a quick smile before opening the waffle maker, revealing a perfectly cooked waffle.

“Babe, you don’t have to cook all the time.” I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind to press a kiss in the center of his back, but he only chuckled.

“I like cooking, doll.” He replied, separating the cooked eggs onto two separate places, each with its own waffle. “Come on, before they get cold.” We tucked into our breakfast, Bucky topping his waffle with whipped cream before squirting some onto mine.

“Thank you for breakfast. You know I’ll be happy to cook too.”

“My pleasure! I enjoy cooking. And I know you will, I figured that I was already here, so why not start?” The waffles were so good and I wondered if he’d made them from scratch or from a box. I could never get mine to come out so fluffy.

“Why do you like cooking so much?” I asked, “Seems like Steve enjoys it too.”

He hummed in agreement. “I used to help my ma back before the war. And there’s a lot more around now than canned beans and spam.”

“Oh wow,” I cringed, “When I was a kid, we used to call SPAM ‘Stuff Posing As Meat.’ Kind of stupid thinking about it now, but…”

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” he chucked. “We had it a lot in the army. It was cheap and easy to ship over. And I didn’t really eat when I was- you know, the Soldier. So when I finally got out, food was one of the hardest things to get used to.” I didn’t want to ask, but he seemed to sense my question. “IV nutrients.” He supplied. “Cheaper, faster, and easier for them to control.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugged. “Seriously, it’s ok. What I went through, it already happened. It’s over.” He paused for a moment and I took his metal hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “Do you know, the first fruit I had when I finally was free was a plum?”

“Really?”

He nodded. “When I finally settled in Romania, I was able to mess around with food. It was tight thinking back on it, but God, I loved plums.”

“What did you do over there?”

“A lot, actually.” He bit off a piece of waffle and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I did a lot of work under the table. Mostly heavy lifting. Helped this old lady once in the market, that’s how I got the plums. She was trying to load her cart but the box was too heavy and I caught it before she could fall. I showed up almost every day after that, helped her load and unload her cart and she gave me some of the older fruits.

“Word spread and I got a bit of a reputation there. Before I knew it, I was getting a mix of pocket change and leftover groceries for helping a lot of the farmers. That lady - she put me up in her barn for a while in the winter until I had enough to get a small apartment in town. I used to fix stuff in her house and she’d feed me. It felt nice, you know? I could do something useful and good with myself. And that stupid arm was doing good for once.”

“That sounds really nice. I’m glad she was there to help you.” I couldn’t help but admire the faraway look on his face as he remembered the smaller details.

“Before I knew it, I was running errands for her, especially in the bad weather.” Bucky chuckled to himself as he took another bite of waffle. “I’d go to the butcher for her too. She told everyone I was her nephew and not to bother me because I’d had a hard time. It was like she understood. She called me her bear and laughed because I was so big, but so quiet and shy. Hell, I even started working for the butcher when she ran out of things she wanted fixed in her little house. She taught me recipes she knew, easy ones that didn’t take a lot of ingredients. And that’s how I realized that I hadn’t had a decent meal in almost seventy years.” He pressed a kiss to my hand before sitting back, his thumb tracing my knuckles. “Sorry- I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

“Why are you sorry?” I replied. “I love hearing your stories.”

“Really?” I nodded.

“You know, when Steve took me out, he talked about you so much.” He squeezed my hand, trying to hide his blush. “It was really cute.”

“He’s a softie.” Bucky chuckled.

“I don’t think he’s the only one,” I replied. “I like it. It’s really nice to see how much you guys love each other. And I’m not going to lie, but it’s making me fall for you even more now.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Yeah babe! If you guys weren’t serious about each other, then I’d be nervous about being in this relationship. But you guys fit so naturally together that I can’t even picture one of you without the other.”

“So you’re fallin’ for us, huh?” He asked so cooly, but I could see the pink in his cheeks.

“Maybe,” I replied, but couldn’t help but to mirror his smile.

***

Thank you to everyone who stopped by, enjoyed the series, left love, and left comments! I look forward to sharing the next chapter! <3

#marvel #mcu #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #StevexBucky #buckyxofc #polyamory #stevexofcxbucky #steve x ofc x bucky #avengers #fanfiction #stuck in the middle #sarcasmoverlordxomasterlist

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