#i searched up rusty and hydra first and got NOTHING

[orangesand-lemons-234]

sorry for party rocking 🤷‍♂️

[the-sad-town]

Love is Real (Real is Love)

One Shot / 4,500 words Relationship: Main Character Polycule (Hydra, Dinah, Pearl, Rusty, Electra, Greaseball) Summary: Six times in which Hydra learned to love.

It was always different with Rusty. Even after he'd first been transferred to Railyard '24 and been introduced to Momma and the other freight, there’d been something different about the young steamer that Hydra couldn’t quite articulate.

Rusty had been one of the few (Momma being the other) who went out of their way to talk to him; much less show him an earnest lick of kindness. Though this fact was only apparent to him much later after some degree of soul searching. But in the moment, he rather enjoyed the engine’s companionship. And they found themselves keeping the other company during quiet times in the yard.

One night, they had rolled past the race track and into the hills and valley beyond the yard’s boundaries. They crossed the river, encircled the edge of the mountain, felt the harshness of the wind stroke through their hair; in a mock race with nothing on the line. Laughing, adrenaline pumping, their brakes sparked to a slow halt just outside the perimeter after they’d been past several laps. And both rolling stock collapsed beside one another, knees in the damp ground.

Rusty was the one to break the air between them. “That was…wow. I’ve never raced like that before.”

Hydra tilted his head to catch a glimpse of Rusty. He hadn't noticed before how cute he was when he was exhausted. “I wouldn’t mind giving it a whirl, like for real I mean, if you were the one leading.”

Something about Rusty made him feel like it was an okay thing to say. Porter and Slick would’ve roasted him to hell and back for that. Rusty didn’t say anything. The moonlight was so gentle against the small engine’s skin as he gave him a sweet smile. And for some reason that felt like enough.

“I should, I should get going.” Rusty got up and rolled off towards his shed. “I’ll see you in the morning, Hydra.”

“‘Night Rusty.”

When they parted for their separate sheds, the entire conversation played back over and over in Hydra’s mind. Where did all of that come from?

It wasn’t until just before the final heat of the championship when it finally all made sense to him. Initially, he’d heard that there’d been a wreck involving Rusty. And so he headed out to that section of track to see if the steamer was alright. When he got there, the first thing he saw was Rusty’s eyes plastered to the sky. The closest comparison Hydra could think of was that of someone on a trip who had thought they’d seen into the eyes of God. But there were none of the usual checkboxes that indicated the presence of drugs.

Hydra saw a rawness that could only come from the authentic self. Rusty was so vulnerable at this moment. And seeing that made things so obvious to Hydra. Whatever had just happened to the engine, he didn’t know. But he knew he had to do something. Make anything happen.

“It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when…”

~

His feelings for Pearl were the worst case scenario, Hydra decided after it all became clear to him. She had caught his eye when they met briefly, just before the championship. Off the bat, he noticed how small she was and how new everything seemed to her. It was adorable. And because she was coupled to Rusty after everything had settled down, they had the chance to get better acquainted. In the beginning, it was Hydra playing the third wheel for his best friend and his best friend’s girl. But things evolved. And it soon wasn’t uncommon to see Hydra and Pearl spending time together independently of Rusty. As it turned out, it wasn’t that everything seemed new to her. But so much was totally new. Coming to the yard, she was just six months off the assembly line. But even as Pearl accustomed herself to life on the rails and expanded her understanding of how the real world worked, her wide eyes never receded.

She had shown up to Hydra’s shed one afternoon, distraught, and explained to him that she’d lost her hair clip. It was a dark purple thing, matching the paint of her accents, and formed the vague shape of a butterfly. So the two began their search around the perimeter of the coach sheds and the passenger platform.

“I remember I had it when I left the shed, because I was running late and had to fix my hair while skating over. So if I dropped it before we left, it’d be around here somewhere,” Pearl explained as she sifted through the gravel lining that carpeted the tracks.

“When’d you notice it was gone?” A little further down the rails, Hydra’s eyes flitted between the sleepers in the track.

“During the afternoon shift. After we left the ’24.” She swatted at the gravel and got back onto her wheels. “That clip was all I had when I left the assembly line. Hydra, what if we can’t find it?”

Hydra rolled to her side, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. There had been such a deep sadness in her eyes when she said that. They gave her a smirk of reassurance. “It’ll be fine. You remember having it. It couldn’t have gotten far. Well, not too far for us to find it.”

She returned the smile, taken by Hydra’s calming effect. “You’re right. My hair clip is bright enough, it wouldn’t be hard to spot it on the tracks.”

Starlight, he just wanted to take all that was wrong with the world, crinkle it up like a paper ball, then take the good that was left and hand it to her on his knees. With her, everything got the idealist treatment. She was willing to let Slick have a second chance after the whole racing fiasco (Rusty had been reluctant and even Hydra couldn’t find it in him to see things the same way). Pearl wasn’t dumb by any means. Naive? Probably. But not dumb. She just saw—and hoped—for the best in everything. And maybe it was a bit much at times. Sometimes he wished he could share in it as whole-heartedly as she did.

“C’mon, we haven’t looked this way.” Pearl nudged him by the hand, towards the opposite end of the platform. She went that way. He didn’t follow.

Hydra stooped down to his stoppers. He squeezed a handful of dirt in his palm, letting the dust trickle through his clasp and back down to the ground. What was he thinking? Pearl was already spoken for. And she was far too loyal to her engine for Hydra to even remotely consider it. Or even for him to even think of meddling in what was already such an attractive pair. Whatever he was doing—or feeling—now, no it wasn’t right. How could he do this to his friend? Especially one whom, as they had already come to terms with, they were also harboring deep feelings for?

Gazing over at Pearl, who was focused on picking through the gravel at the base of the passenger’s platform, Hydra felt an ache in his soul. Knelt down in the rocks and grime, her armor made her stand out like a quartz. She was so beautiful and yet all of this was so wrong. He couldn’t do this. Not anymore.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Sorry Pearly, I just remembered. I need to run some H-strain over to Green Arrow asap. I’ll give you a hand when I get back. Alright?”

“Oh, okay! I’ll see you later!” She exclaimed without looking up from the concrete. Had she watched him leave, she would’ve seen him sprint away from her

But Hydra never made do on his excuse or promise. Instead, he spent the remainder of the day huddled in his shed with a joint and a Minecraft binge session. The best treatment, yet regrettably not a cure, for conflicted heart syndrome.

~

If his guilt over Pearl wasn’t bad enough, his guilt over Dinah was worse. He had always admired her from afar, from the time he first came to the yard. She was pretty and had a smile to die for. But since interaction between freight and coaches, especially during work, was rare; it stayed a shallow crush for quite a while. But then Hydra and Rusty were spending more time together. And since Dinah was like a sister to Rusty, they too ended up seeing more and more of one another. Quickly, she became more than a pretty face.

There were things he began to pick up on that hadn’t been so obvious during yard social events or the fleeting moments when freight and coaches came together. Her enthusiasm for baking (which he shared), her extensive loyalty to those she cared for, and the perfectionist eye she put into nearly everything she did. Sure she had moments of coming undone, foregoing common sense or logic in the heat of her feelings. That much he had figured before. But at the same time she was so confident and collected; he admired that in her. She didn’t give herself enough credit for it.

On the day he realized how incredible she really was, Dinah had agreed to accompany him on another round of his out of yard errands. It was simple enough, pick up power converters from the next yard over (his own we’re starting to wear) and deliver some H-strain to a flatcar there. In and out. Five mile journey tops.

But nonetheless, it became another one of Hydra’s famous side-quests. At some point they had managed to switch onto the wrong track. Instead of the Apollo-Victoria Station, they found themselves at a pass between the mountains. Down the ledge beneath them was a short but definitely bumpy fall into a short ravine of bushes thick enough to obscure the earth beneath.

Clenched fists pressed against his waist, Hydra was poised atop a rock that ultimately proved useless for getting a good look at the landscape around them. “Well, we’re definitely lost.” He turned to face Dinah, who was examining the tracks from which they had just come from. The way in which her eyebrow cocked as she concentrated was not lost on Hydra.

“Do you think it was by the bridge or the foot of the mountain where we made the wrong turn?” “She looked up to him atop the rock. “I can retrace our tracks to the mountain just fine but after that-“

It was then that Hydra felt one of his wheels slip on the uneven surface. He lost his footing and tumbled off the rock. Grunting with each point of impact against the ground, his chassis rolled down and through the overgrown grass and thorn bushes until he came to a rough stop at the bottom. There he felt a sliver of movement brush against his left calf.

“Hydra!? Are you hurt?” Dinah called down to him, carefully yet quickly stepping down the incline, practically stepping blind with how thick the foliage was.

He lurched up into a sitting position, reaching over to rub his sore shoulder. “I’m gonna bruise in the morning. But other than that…“ Hydra yelped as a pinching jolt shot through his calf. There was a faint hiss and a shark’s fin of glimpse of brown dashed through the grass. Just long and clear enough for Hydra to identify the copperhead as the one that had sunk its fangs into him.

Hydra’s leg pulsated with pain. He had to hoist it upright in order to get a good look at the bite mark in his calf. It hadn’t managed to break through the metal, at least not completely. But it was enough of a dent that one could see where the copperhead’s venom would start to seep in and mix with the hydrogen coursing through his chassis. He grimaced at the sight, already feeling numbness make its way through his leg frame. It wouldn’t kill him, of course, but the next twenty-four hours weren’t going to be fun for him or the snake.

Dinah arrived at the bottom. Hydra pointed to the wound. “Copperhead bit me. Poor guy.”

“Oh let me see…” She sank down next to him, examining the wound. “Ohhh…”

Hydra’s eyes darted between his throbbing leg and the top of the incline, calculating the ways in which they could get home like this. Maybe she could go on ahead to the station, AV or 24; whichever came first. Then he could haul himself up the hill, army style, and hopefully by the time he got himself to the top she’d have found a mechanic who could then-

He was yanked out of his thoughts by Dinah tearing a slice of her sleeve off and tying it tightly around his leg. “That’ll keep it from spreading as much.” Before he could ask what she was doing, Dinah had pulled one of his arms over her shoulder. “Alright, I need you to give it your all. Can you stand up?”

“Di, I-“

“No arguing. The faster we move the better,” she insisted. Hydra did as she said. He just barely managed to push himself onto his wheels and roll forward, with half his weight on his one responsive leg and the rest against Dinah. But they managed to make it work, hiking through the ravine until they found a gap that allowed them to hitch back onto the ledge where the tracks ran.

Through the glimpse of her determined face he managed to catch, Hydra felt a sense of ease overcome him. And it definitely wasn’t the venom settling in. This was a self-assured coach who always seemed to know just what to do. Even if she hadn’t a clue in this moment, he wouldn’t have let it worry him. They would figure things out. Together.

Once the snake’s venom was flushed out of his system and he could feel his leg properly again, Hydra decided he never wanted to be anywhere Dinah wasn’t.

But then came the problem. Dinah was coupled to Greaseball. Hydra wasn’t a freak, he wasn’t about to stick his nose where it wasn’t wanted. And in no universe did he ever expect Greaseball to be willing to share. Starlight, it was Rusty and Pearl all over again. Only now with the added danger of a very angry diesel.

Lying in a field outside the yard’s boundaries one night, Hydra brought a joint or two to enjoy the cacophony of stars above. The smoke from each hit grazed the sky above by clouds darkened by the night. He lamented on his love life to a doe that had been attracted by the scent of H-strain.

“I mean, I really do care for them. It’s not some dumb crush or anything like that. I love them. And that’s the thing, if any of them know, it’s all over. Rusty won’t want me around Pearl, she won’t want me around him; Greaseball will hunt me for sport.” The hand that held their joint rubbed the bridge of their nose before they let their head roll to the side. “It’s like, I have to choose between the friendship and how I feel, and like, it's obvious what I’m gonna do but I hate that I have to make it in the first place… Starlight, why does it all have to be so complicated?”

The deer twitched its nose before leaning down to graze gently on the grass. Hydra chuckled before taking another hit. “You’re so right about that.”

He wound up never having to make a choice. Everyone came clean to one another in a falling cacophony of events that ended with the first polycule meeting—and Hydra discovering his feelings weren’t one sided. The six of them negotiated boundaries and needs with the intensity of generals going to war. Greaseball had shocked him with her willingness to let Dinah be with Hydra and Pearl (equally shocking was the revelation of something between the girls and Electra that went way back).

For the first time since closing on the agreement, the six rolling stock huddled on the coach shed couch (the only one available that could handle all of them at once). Some action film (that they’d taken forever deciding on) blared on the TV to minds still in awe over how everything had come to be. Dinah’s hands were occupied by Greaseball and Hydra on opposite sides. Pearl held Hydra’s other hand, and the warmth of Rusty’s boiler was a warm blanket around all of them. For the longest time, that’s how things worked out. None of them could've dreamt of how things would soon escalate.

~

Electra was never their type. Frankly, if they hadn’t shared the same partners, Hydra wouldn’t have given the electric a very close look. Especially after the championship. But the situation being as it may, the others encouraged the two to spend some time together. No one expected them to fall for one another, but it only made sense that they ought to get comfortable.

Hydra dipped a Chicken McNugget into the pallet of ketchup he had made in the box before chowing down as though he’d never tasted it before. Their hands and wrist were smeared with ketchup and grease but he didn’t seem to mind. Electra watched through the edge of their eye, tightly grasping a medium Ginger Ale; the only thing on the McDonald’s menu that hadn’t sent shivers down their spine with thoughts of grease and cholesterol.

The hydrogen truck and the electric engine sat atop a steel beam in the freight side of the yard. They watched as, in the distance, Porter and Lumber were chucking a hubcap back and forth like a frisbee. The electric and the freight truck hadn’t said a word to one another since ordering their food. Hydra had tried to count the number of times the two had been alone together since the polycule started and couldn’t get past a shaky third finger. Both had spent the time mentally daring the other to say the first remark, while also stubbornly refusing to do it themselves.

Electra checked their phone. They’d have to be home in forty-five minutes; and were they going to say to the others when asked how it went? And so they tried for the (other) thing that they knew for certain the two had in common.

“Electricity is very sustainable for the environment. Less roads and less need for oil.”

Hydra licked the ketchup off his fingers. “So does hydrogen.”

“I thought you were going to say something about hydrogen being better,” they remarked, remembering Hydra’s many public tangents.

But the truck merely shrugged. “Who knows. I mean, the end goal is the same, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” Electra took another sip of their drink. “You should know, I was never a huge enthusiast about the whole environmental thing. It’s all fine and good, but it’s not something I think about when I… tout the benefits of electricity.”

“That’s a light way of putting it, but I see your point.” “It’s kind of funny, you really are pretty passionate about that but like… I don’t know, you just seem reserved about it. Like you’re holding back.” Hydra paused to formulate his thoughts. “People say I tend to run my mouth a lot when I talk about hydrogen…”

“Now that’s a light way to put it,” Electra interjected.

“But when you do the same thing, you’re so chill about it. What I’m trying to say is that I think that’s really cool of you.”

The electric’s eyebrow arched. They knew precisely what he was talking about; . But hearing it come from Hydra only made it all the more eye-opening. “I don’t need to lecture about what I can show off. Thank you.”

Hydra passed the box Electra’s way, looking at them with a cocked eyebrow. Electra held their breath before picking out a nugget with two very loose nails. They ate it in one bite, giving the best smile they could while also trying not to scream over thoughts of chicken grease.

Even after the cup was empty and the nuggets reduced to just a few crumbs. The two stayed on that beam, talking until the streetlights came on about nothing and everything.

~

Greaseball was the most pleasant thing in his life that had just sort of happened. Any attraction to one another had gone unrecognized and unacknowledged in the early days of the polycule. They weren’t quite friends at that point, but they weren’t enemies either. Maybe there was a little bit of bitterness there too—Greaseball was certainly not doing the planet any favors. And Hydra had been one half of the pair to take her champion title after all.

But sharing two partners and being in such close proximity with one another turned into the get along shirt neither knew they needed. They started off only hanging out together in the context of the polycule. But it quickly became clear how well they matched the other’s energy and humor; and sharing multiple loves together didn’t not help either. The bridge began to come together. It wasn’t her fault she was built to run on oil. And all he had done was play the game the way it was meant to. In enough time, the two could be found yapping over a joint and some Call of Duty. Just the two of them.

It had started with Hydra and Greaseball spamming stupid memes into the group chat they shared with Dinah. Basic SpongeBob ones at first that Dinah could at least pretend to understand. Then they’d gotten increasingly abstract shitposting, images deep fried by pixels and nonsensically cryptic meaning. On Reddit, Hydra found a picture of a shark in a toilet captioned “Benjamin” in neon purple text and sent that to the group chat. Somehow that ended up being the breaking point.

Their dumb, reckless laughter had been strong enough to hear with clarity from the kitchen. Dinah rolled into the living room and found them, separated by the middle cushions, clutching their sides. Greaseball hammered her fist into the side of the throw pillow she had her face buried into.

Throughout the rest of their lazy Saturday at home, even the utterance of the caption set off Hydra and Greaseball into another fit. If put on the spot, neither of those involved could’ve explained what made it so funny. But unlike Dinah, that didn’t stop Greaseball or Hydra. After dinner that night was interrupted by Hydra’s sudden remembrance of the fish (and Greaseball almost choking on her glass of diesel because of it), Dinah stood up to make a proclamation.

“I swear to Starlight, if I hear about that stupid fish one more time, I’m going to lose it!” she announced to the other five at the table. This would not be the last she’d hear of Benjamin for the day.

But by the time the ‘Cule had settled down for bed, the image of that shark in the toilet might as well have been psychic, with how vibrant it was in their minds. The lamp turned off with a click. Hydra snuggled into Dinah’s back while she did the same into Greaseball. His lips pursed as he struggled to retain his laughter. Believing their girlfriend to be asleep, Hydra lifted his head and leaned in towards Greaseball. Dinah’s eyes burst open upon hearing the forbidden word:

“Benjamin.”

And with that, Hydra and Greaseball’s respective pillows were tossed into their hands and the bedroom door was shut.

The diesel and the freight giggled to themselves all throughout the walk of shame to the mattress behind the couch. And as they tucked in between the thin, mysteriously stained sheets. Now lying on their backs, a cigarette’s width of space between them on the twin sized surface . Greaseball interjected their laughter with more utterances of “Benjamin.” The mattress vibrated beneath them with tremors of their repressed snickers.

Hydra rolled to his side, intending to say it again, but said nothing instead. In that instant he saw, the diesel next to him was an alien who had infiltrated the Greaseball he knew for years before the championship, who’d allowed him to be with their girlfriends. When was the first time he saw her so peeled back? So happy in her own skin?

They stared at one another for a moment as the laughter faded. Hydra tried his damndest to read her; did Greaseball sense the same charge running through her? She smashed her lips onto his, the motion feeling so alien and yet so natural to both of them. Greaseball expertly flipped over so she was straddling his waist. Looking back on it all, Hydra could never pinpoint exactly when he had fallen for her. And maybe that was partly what made it all so exhilarating. She seemed so determined to challenge every fiber of his being and he couldn’t get enough of it. He deepened the kiss, trying to get as good a taste of her as he could.

~

In many senses of the phrase, he couldn’t explain where Bernadette came from. Everything just sort of happened. After finding out that Greaseball was pregnant—and decided that they were going to keep it—Hydra had been tormented by thoughts over whether or not he could properly bond with the baby. It wasn’t like he had a great frame of reference to draw upon.

In the Facility, the White Coats had heaped their paper words onto him because of hardware specs, fuel cells, and theories being proven true. Only fairly recently had he come to terms with the reality of it all. Something as real and unconditional as what a child needed had been so foreign to him. His partners, and even Momma, had all assured him he would love the baby just fine and what a great father he was going to be. But it wasn’t until Greaseball handed him the newborn trainlet that things finally clicked.

It was a little girl, and a hydrogen truck at that. She felt so weightless in his hands, as though a slight gust of wind would be enough to carry her away. Late into the night following the delivery, Hydra’s partners had fallen into well deserved sleep. But he stayed up, seated deep in one of the delivery room chairs, the infant who had joined her parents in sleep between his arms. He simply watched her tiny chassis rise and fall with breath. With a deft finger, he traced the tiny paint stripes on her cheeks, reveling in the mixture between his and Greaseball’s paint.

Not even a full day old and already he felt his engine swelling at the sight of. She was beautiful; their beautiful baby girl. There were no words to justify the way he felt. And that was the incredible thing about it, it didn’t need any explanation at all. Knowing that that worry had been for naught was enough to bring a smile to his face.

Hydra stayed there well into the sun’s waking moments, comfortably sat between his own feelings and the life that had brought them to him. He was the luckiest freight car in the world.

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep. 4)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 4123

Episode: Four

Warning: violence, gore, description of violence, fighting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Three

Time: 3:20am

Date: October 3rd 2024

Wakanda was always calm when Steve went, the people who lived there just seemed to understand the ways of life. There was never a catcall or fight in an alley, people greeted each other with kindness and a soft bow, Steve always copied but felt like he was too stiff when he did so. He found he walked with his back a little straighter and his chin a little higher, he felt unstoppable in the warm climate, filled with power and generosity. 

Natasha on the other hand hated Wakanda, not because of the people but for the same reason as Steve; it was too peaceful. She’d always get the dirtiest looks when trying to explain her case, no one seemed to understand the concept of ‘too much comfort is uncomfortable’. She ran to Bucky once after a moment and asked him why he liked it so much, she thought he off all people would hate comfort, he’d always be one to sleep on the floor because the mattress would feel like it was swallowing him. He just shook his head and shrugged, he’d never tell anyone why; Nat found out he never even told you. 

Natasha had been trained to trust no one other than yourself, but after escaping the Red Room she questioned the one in the mirror all too often. People would smile and while Steve smiled and waved Natasha thought of ulterior motives, why were they smiling to them and not the people slightly behind them? but then they’d smile to the people behind Natasha and she’d question if it was to cover themselves. The welcoming's to almost everywhere felt weird, she wanted to break in or have to fake her way to what she wanted, having doors opened for her felt like a slap in the face for all the things she’s done for those years before. 

“God, gives me the creeps,” Natasha faked a shiver, Steve just rolled his eyes. They were walking in the palace now, T’Challa would be waiting for them in Shuri’s tech room. 

Apparently Shuri had been wanting to try a new type of cuff, one made of- obviously -vibranium that tightens at a lie. There were little needles that poke into the culprit's nervous system, it picks up on someone’s sign that they are lying and tightens when the little pins are triggered. If someone's breath picked up or heart rate doubled, it would squeeze a little bit more until their hands were blue. Nat thought it was amazing when she heard it over the phone, her mind was picturing it the entire flight over. 

Steve had been thinking about Bucky, Steve was well aware of Bucky’s deep connection to you. You’d been dating for over a year and it was love at first sight (then Bucky quietly loving you from the other side of the room), Bucky was never one to fall for someone, he’d never have the confidence in himself that he’d be here for too long. But it was the little things Bucky began to do that made Steve appreciate you even more. He’d watch from his spot on the kitchen counter, quietly sipping coffee and reading the paper, which wasn’t actually paper because it was on his phone, while glancing over every so often to see you and Bucky in your own little world, both giggling at something. There's this moment for Bucky when he’d just look at you, Steve had seen it happen so often, like Bucky was taking a step back and realizing he had someone who loved him unconditionally. The laugh would die down and Bucky would whisper something, it would alway be along the lines of ‘thank you’ but it could change. He’d sometimes do it with Steve as well, both you and Steve would say the same thing, ‘no need to thank me, but you’re welcome’ because that’s what Bucky liked best. 

You were just an agent when you arrived, nothing more. Slowly you had gotten to know who everyone was by going out of your way to give out cookies to everyone who walked by you, it was a little thing Bucky seemed to really enjoy. After your talents were discovered from past jobs you were moved to a spy, you’d used to work for a private firm where they’d track down people who launder money, you’d have to get so much evidence it often led you to get jobs at mattress stores or random shops. With that and a lifeguard certification- that you got when you were a teen- under your belt you were perfect to be an agent, Fury introduced you to Bucky for combat training because Bucky needed to learn how to work with others; Steve actually told Fury to give Bucky the assignment. 

You’d spar everyday and the both of you would get into it. There would be times where you wouldn’t talk to each other for the rest of the day because the other cheated. Everyone would laugh but you’d take it very seriously, Bucky would always say you weren’t strong enough to go out into the field, so you lifted weights. He’d say you weren’t fast enough, then he’d see you sprinting on the treadmill a day later. 

Steve knew you were good for Bucky when you were about to start dating, it was at that part where you were going on dates but you weren’t dating. With all the things Bucky had criticized you on, you flipped it on him with one simple task: keep your fiddle-leaf fig plant alive. It would’ve taken Bucky one google search to find out that 61% of people can’t keep this house plant alive, it’s the hardest one to take care of. It was a metaphor of sorts, for you and for your relationship. 

It wasn’t a surprise to find it dead when you got home, Steve came to you with his shoulders slumped. Apparently Bucky had been crying for three days straight because he killed your plant and he thought you’d dump him because of it. It was the weird feelings when Steve saw you start to laugh, this was his best friend who was crying of guilt and you were laughing, he’d wanted to punch you square in the jaw. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked way too harshly. 

“Oh nothing…” you wiped the tear that had fallen. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry!” Bucky had left his room and came running to you, his face was red and his eyes were barely open from how puffy they were. He quickly pulled you in for a hug, “I messed up your plant, I’m sorry.”

Steve was getting redder and redder the more you laughed, “what’s so fucking funny, huh?” Steve boomed, he was getting protective. 

You had dropped the act then, both of them were very emotional at the moment and laughing wouldn’t be the best choice of action. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” you soothed him, “you weren’t supposed to keep alive.” 

“What?” he pulled away and sniffled, “but you asked me to-”

“To try,” you paused with emphasis, “and keep one of the hardest plants to keep alive, alive.” you smiled, “I was proud that I had kept it alive for as long as I did, but I needed to see what you would do with something like this.” 

“Why?” Steve asked for Bucky, still very protective. 

“Did you buy a new one and hope I didn’t notice?” You asked, Bucky shook his head no. “did you get mad at me because I gave you a stupid chore?” He also said no to that. “Did you make Wanda keep it alive with her powers?” all these options ran through Bucky’s head and he didn’t even think of them, “you put so much effort into this, and even if you did fail you still cared a lot, that’s all I ever want. I want this relationship to work and if you run at the first sign of adversity then this won’t work, but you buckle down and keep pushing, and if it doesn’t work? Then I know you actually cared, and you tried. That’s all.” 

“You’re a keeper.,” Steve said before walking away and giving them space to catch up. 

Nat waved a hand in front of Steve’s face, and it turns out he’d been staring at T’Challa for a while while he was talking. They had walked the entire way and Steve just stared at the ground with a blank expression, he needed to look out for you in order to keep Bucky sane. 

“S-sorry, I zoned out.” Steve straightened his posture a bit, hands on hips and shoulders rolled back.

“No worries, captain Rogers.” T’Challa spoke calm as ever, “I have the criminals in the room, they have the new tech that’s already set up, my sister wanted to set it up.” T’Challa opened one arm and guided them to the secret room where two men sat with their hands cuffed and on their laps. “Neither of them have any record of being born, probably a fake identity.” The king linked arms with Shuri and walked out of the small room. 

Seeing how grand and futuristic Shuri’s lab was made it shocking to be in a normal interrogation cell, two rusty chairs that were occupied and no table. Steve looked to see the single light that hung from the ceiling, it wasn’t a soft yellow like the one’s at the Avenger building but purple, vibranium always casted a purple/blue hue. 

“Where are you from?” Steve asked. 

“Iceland.” the one on Steve’s left answered. 

“Is Hydra now stationed in Iceland?” Nat cut in and asked. 

“One station, there’s many.” The same man on the left kept talking, the other one had his head all the way down with his forehead touching his knees. 

Steve leaned up against the wall, “you attacked Princes Shuri, why?”

“Because she is the one that made us start from the very beginning, she's the one that erased the trigger words from your friend and our weapon.” He snarled, “She needed to pay for what she did, we should have known Wakanda was the hardest place to attack, we’d need a Winter Soldier for that.” A smirk grew from the right side of his mouth. 

“What are you smiling about?” Nat pressed, she walked closer.

“Oh, nothing- ow!” the handcuffs tightened, his breathing rate doubled as he tried to ride out the initial shock. 

“Tell us!” Steve smashed the wall, causing a dent to grow from it. 

“Fine…” the man adjusted, “once we found out we’d never get our Winter Soldier back we quickly moved on, no one can break Wakanda’s tech, it’s impossible.” The man sighed and looked off, “so we chose to start again, make a new way, create a new trial. It’s safe to say we did.” he took a deep breath and leaded back against his chair, his fingertips were beginning to turn purple, it was difficult to see with the purple hue of the room. “When we attacked your building we didn’t want Barnes, we wanted someone, anyone. This girl was the closest to us, and it seemed to be the closest to Barnes, am I right?” he quizzed, seemed to be genuinely wondering. “She’d wake up and forget where she is, normally she’d pat the ground beside her and call out for a man named Bucky, that’s Barnes. It was the perfect choice, completely on a whim.” He looked at Nat, “she got her confidence from you, the entire time we were slowly poisoning her she completely believed she was here for ransom, it was funny to see her face when he told her what we did to her, how we now control her. The look on her face when we asked who wiped Barnes’ trigger words… She spit them out but her face was full of fear, her voice and thoughts weren’t her own.” 

“Why would you tell us all of this?” Steve asked. 

“I know I will die,” the cuffs didn’t tighten, “and my friend is already dead, I’d like to go with a bullet and not torture.” He looked up to them. “I think my father has passed, he worked for Hydra and I’d like to see him, to ask for forgiveness.”

Natasha pushed back the other man who hadn’t spoken a word to find his hands blackened and completely dead, the tightness had cut off all circulation. Right near the edge of the cuff and on the man’s skin was starting to split, there was no blood to leak out of the cut because there wasn’t blood in the veins, it was slowly falling and peeling away. 

“You tortured my friend- two of them actually!” Steve screamed, “I hope to god you die slowly.” Steve lifted his gun to the man’s face, he closed his eyes. But Steve moved the aim to the thigh, you had told him that a shot to the femoral artery was fatel after ten seconds of bleeding, you had also told him that the femur- which was what the femoral artery is attached to -is the most painful break for bones. 

So Steve shot at the middle of the thigh, he and Nat watched without emotion as the man quickly bled out, the blood squirted in the air and rolled down his pants. Blood coming from an artery is bright red and tends to squirt, but from a vein makes the blood more slow and dark. When the final squirt of blood managed to hit the man’s face, Steve knew he hit right on target; and that you were right for all those things.

Time: 5:59am

Date: October 3rd 2024

Bucky and Wanda walked through the forest, most of the leaves had fallen off the trees due to the season so they could see further into the thick woods. Not a lot of talking was happening between the two of them, Bucky was way too focused on keeping his cool while Wanda used her powers to see if there was any form of life around. 

The wind blew softly and the leaves that held on for dear life were now getting pushed aside off the flimsy twigs, they would fall and join the other countless leaves that met the same fate. Wanda loved the fall, she’d jump into a pile of leaves any chance she got. Right now she was purposely stepping on the ones that looked the most dry which would give a good crunch. Her nose was a little red due to the cold but everywhere else she was yellow and happy, it seemed she gave off heat.

Bucky hated the fall, the sound of stepping on leaves sounded like someone was right behind him. If there was a Hydra agent out in these woods they would have heard them from a mile away with all of Wanda’s jumping and giggling. Bucky loved Wanda in a motherly kind of way, but sometimes she was just too...happy…

When everything seemed lost, Bucky and Wanda’s phones began to vibrate, Bucky was quick to pick up. Both Bucky and Wanda made their way to a tree stump to take a moment to listen. Wanda sat on the ground floor and picked at the tons of leaves that covered the ground, she’d pick and rip them apart one by one. 

“It’s Steve,” Bucky whispered before picking up, “Steve?”

“Buck, you have to listen to me,” his voice was shaken and distraught, “I’ve sent the coordinates, she’s there but I don’t know how much of her is left.” 

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked as he looked over to see Wanda looking at the coordinates on her phone. 

“I don’t know how much has happened to her, they’ve brainwashed her.” Steve took a deep breath, Bucky could hear Nat in the background, “we have to act fast, we’re on our way, do not wait for us.” he commanded and Bucky nodded but he knew Steve couldn't see, there was a type of mind reading between the two of them that really came in handy for times like these. 

“Roger that.” Bucky hung up and began to move again, Wanda had read the location and it turned out they weren’t that far away, at the final stretch they saw the building through the empty trees. 

The forest had been cleared around the building, the grass seems healthy but it was starting to brown with the changing weather. The building itself was very small for it to be the most dangerous Hydra facility, it was only one story. There were no windows and the outer wall was all one grey colour, no symbols or tanks ready to fire; there wasn’t even a guard around the building. It seemed too vacant for it to be true, the wind seemed to stop as they got closer into the open field, it was completely still and almost dead. 

Bucky or Wanda actually had a plan, everything had been so fast there wasn’t anything drawn out or spoken about at some meeting, this was all instinct. Though there were no windows and security cameras they both knew something had to be watching the outside, they were low to the ground in the open field but the grass was way too short to cover them. Bucky had his gun ready while Wanda’s hands were in a position to create a shield for the both of them, at the sound of a vibration Wanda checked her phone. 

“Steve and Nat have landed, they are five minuets out,” she whispered. 

“Copy.” was all Bucky could think to say. 

Both of their backs smashed against the wall, with their final moments of bliss before fighting a couple deep breaths were taken and eyes remained shut. Bucky’s finger fiddled on the trigger of the gun, Imagining what it would look like to blow the man who hurt you to oblivion. Bucky moved further and farther away from his Winter Soldier thoughts, the mass murder and robotic revenge. But when it came to someone hurting you, he’d even put the mask back on.

On the count of three the door was bursted open, and right away agents on the inside began to fire. Wanda and Bucky took them down their own way. 

One agent was still alive, Bucky ran up and gripped his throat. “Where is she!” he screamed. 

“You’ll never know-”

A gun was placed to his head. 

“-Alright! Alright!” The man shrieked, “third door on the left, please don’t kill me!” the man cried. 

“I won’t kill you,” Bucky lowered his gun but the grip on his neck tightened, “I’ll torture you slowly before.'' His left hand gripped so tight around the agent’s neck he could hear the bone shattering, clear fluid from the agent’s spine leaked from his eye and ear before blood followed. Bucky watched emotionlessly as the agent’s face turned blue and almost popped like a balloon. “Wanda, get them all outside.” 

“Yes, sergeant!” Wanda yelled, she was fighting off everyone else. 

Bucky blew by everyone as they ran to see the commotion, so ran right by Bucky without thinking he was the threat. Wanda was now outside and in a matter of seconds the eeriness of the outside matched the inside, the air was still and stuffy, it smelt like the beginning of decomposing. Bucky had his gun ready but it seemed no one was in here, his only threat was you. 

Bucky took note of the stone grey floors, and stone grey walls, and stone grey ceilings. HYDRA didn’t put much money into design like the Avenger’s did, all the funds they collected went straight into the tech they made and Bucky was sure that’s why they were still around, they had so much money saved that they could pay people to turn their cheek and walk the other way. 

As Bucky scanned for something to give away where all the scientists were, his eye met another door in the very corner of the room, it was exactly the same colour of the stone grey walls but the brass door knob caught his eye. All you could hear was the boot of Bucky’s combat boots on the floor, his breath was even scaring him. His hand reached out for the door and when he opened it he found what he was worrying about. 

A cell. More specifically: an empty cell. 

There were chains hanging from the ceiling, one large cuff, one for what seemed to be used for a neck and then four cuffs for wrists and ankles. Bucky completely forgot where he was, he didn’t remember there was an entire lab behind him, all his mind was throwing at his memories of a cell just like this. 

Bucky didn’t remember much about cells in the early days fighting against HYDRA in a cell, in the 40’s. He did, however, remember what it was like to come out of ice when he was needed. The concept of life didn’t exist when he was frozen, it felt like a long blink, it didn’t seem like he’d been asleep for years.

He’d wake up and for a second he was still normal. He’d think it’s cold because it was winter and his house back in the 40’s didn’t have any type of heating system except for a small fireplace, his boots and pants were still on because he got hammered the night before- also explaining the headache -and just fell into bed. All his convincing would go away when his brain would fog again, and he’d look down and catch the shine of his left arm, all at once he’d fall back into place. The dissociating happens after dreams but it came from waking up and not really knowing who he was, as he’d walk to whatever commander was in charge that year he’d ask himself what he was, all the memories and answers in his brain would seem to pull further away, like a word in the tip of his tongue. 

He was ripped from his thoughts manually, he thought of you. He thought he was hypnotizing himself when he looked in there at first, too triggered by what he saw to think straight, but he took another moment to look, he saw the chains swinging back and forth ever so slightly.

His stomach dropped, he knew you were still in the room. “Sweetheart?” he called like he always did, “it’s Bucky, we’re gonna get you out of here, come out, baby.” he tried to sound as soothing as possible, he looked under every lab table and every chair. 

He flipped through pages on his desk, reading the details of what they did to you. “What is I.C.E.?” Bucky asked himself. 

“Injected Complying Enhancement.” 

Bucky turned as fast as he could to see you behind him. You were completely naked, body covered in dirt and grime, your hair was hacked and it seemed to have been pulled. Bucky just looked at your body, words were carved into your skin, every single one of them were infected, puss bubbles around the angry red scars. As his eyes trailed up he saw blue on your finger tips, then he reached your face to see a sunken cheekbone and massive cut on your forehead, but nothing compared to a generous piece of your nose hanging on by a thread, the tip was black. 

“Baby, do you know me?” Bucky asked through heavy tears, this wasn’t what he was expecting. 

You scanned over him, “Sergeant, James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038.” 

Right at that moment, he knew you were gone.

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor​

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[iam93percentstardust]

For the birthday prompt: [Winteriron or Stuckony] Omega Tony soothing Alpha Bucky after a panic attack/nightmare shortly after they get him back to the Tower/Compound. Maybe a little bit of the team being overprotective on the omega genius and had been keeping him away from the "dangerous" and traumatized alpha assassin. But in the end, Tony just struts in like it's nothing and Bucky just f'ing melts to do whatever Tony says (in a sweet way, not a creepy one). Please?

Tumblr is doing weird things with the asks so if this doesn’t work, bear with me and I’ll post the story in the notes.

This story got a little bit (okay, maybe more than a little bit) away from me so I hope this is still what you were hoping for! I went the Stuckony route here and I’m also headcanoning that after a few years of dating Steve, Tony has mostly gotten over his emotional constipation.

As always, everything I write is on ao3 but tumblr doesn’t like links so I’m not including that

~

The first time Tony sees Bucky Barnes, it’s through a screen.

It’s the first real lead they’ve had in months, since the flurry of sightings immediately following SHIELD’s collapse. The team had sent Natasha and Clint to check it out. They’re both betas, and Nat’s ability to control the calming pheromones all betas let off gives them an edge over an alpha they suspect is on the verge of going feral.

He’s not on the verge, Tony realizes when he sees Barnes on the screen for the first time. He is feral.

Eyes clearly gone red, clear even through the low saturation of the screen, baring his fangs at Natasha and Clint as they cautiously approach, growling so fiercely that the other people in the market are giving him a wide berth as they peer at him fearfully from under their lashes—Bucky has been pushed past the point of breaking into ferality. It’s not surprising. Their entire world crashing down—literally, in this instance—would be a lot for any alpha to handle, but for one trying to deal with seventy years of brainwashing and amnesia? Yeah, Tony’s not surprised.

There’s something slightly terrifying about it. Alphas going feral is supposed to be a nightmare story, something you tell children about at night to scare them into being good. It’s not supposed to be something you see in a crowded marketplace. And when Tony thinks about how easy it would be for something to go wrong, if they’d sent someone other than Nat or Clint—like Steve who had wanted so badly to be the one to bring his friend in or even Tony with his omega pheromones evolved to tempt alphas into paying attention to him and only him—he shudders.

But—there’s something almost piteous about it too. It’s clear that Bucky is terrified beneath his snarling veneer, clear that he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, and something in Tony’s heart shifts the same as it had the first time he saw Steve.

Something thrums deep inside him to the tune of mine.

“I can help,” he says.

Beneath him, Steve shifts uneasily, saying, “Tony—”

“I want to,” he interrupts. He turns, Steve’s arm sliding from his stomach to his hip, and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, watching Nat raise her hands placatingly out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve had six months to get used to—everything. It wasn’t his fault, I know that, and—and you still love him, Steve, I know you do.”

“I love you,” Steve says, which isn’t really much of an argument.

“I know.” He smiles when Steve rolls his eyes at the well-worn response. “But you love him too. And… he feels like you did when we first met.”

He can feel Steve tense, and he tucks his head deeper into the crook of Steve’s neck, purring quietly to force him to calm. He knows his alpha is only worried about his safety. Bucky isn’t the same person he once was and even if Steve still has feelings for him, it’s only instinct to be worried about the omega he’s also in love with. But he doesn’t need to be worried. Tony is more than capable of taking care of himself and his own instincts are screaming that Bucky won’t hurt him, that Bucky is his. Only once Steve is fully relaxed again does he continue, “Please, Steve. I want to help. I want to know him better and I want to know if what I’m feeling about him is real. Let me?”

Steve sighs but Tony feels his lips curve upwards where they’re pressed against his hair. “I don’t let you do anything.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

~

Bucky is still feral by the time he, Nat, and Clint return to the tower, but it’s tinged now with panic. Tony can smell the sour scent it all the way from where he and the rest of the team are waiting in the kitchen and Bucky’s still outside. He’s not sure if that says something about his strength as an alpha or the depths of his panic, but either way, it’s not good. He glances again at the screen where he can see Natasha trying to calm Bucky down enough to get him to enter the building—the windows blacked out so that Bucky doesn’t panic further at the sight of the team just inside the landing pad—but it’s no dice.

“I’m going out there,” he announces.

It’s meant to just let everyone know that he’s going, but everyone else seems to take it as an invitation to stop him. The noise in the kitchen swings up into an uproar. Even Steve, who knows that he has every intention of helping, has tucked him up against his side, keeping him from taking a single step out of the kitchen.

“He’s dangerous,” Bruce argues once the initial noise has died down a little. It’s telling that Steve doesn’t immediately argue with him the way he normally does when someone says something bad about Bucky.

“We’re all dangerous,” Tony shoots back, ineffectually trying to wriggle his way out of Steve’s arms. “I’m dangerous and biology practically dictates that my orientation is about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit.”

Steve, who has been on the receiving end of Tony’s intense heats, snorts.

“Look,” he continues, “Nat’s not having any luck getting him to calm down enough to come inside and right now I’m really worried he’s going to either steal the Quinjet and take off or jump off the tower and take off. Either option comes with a lot of paperwork that I have to sign so I’d prefer it if he just came inside so why can’t I try? We can’t send another alpha out there, he’ll take that as a sign of aggression, and we can’t send Sam. The last time Bucky met him, he kicked him off a helicarrier. So that means we’re down to me. Sucks that it’s me but I’m our best option.”

“If he hurts you—” Steve begins.

“He won’t,” Tony says softly and turns so he can nose at Steve’s scent glands. “You won’t let him. I know you’ll be right there, ready if something goes wrong.”

Steve clearly still doesn’t want to let him go out there but his arms loosen enough for Tony to slip away. He smiles at the others, hiding his own nerves beneath a façade of self-confidence that he absolutely doesn’t feel. It’s not like any of them are wrong: feral alphas are dangerous, and this one is more dangerous than most. But he’s not wrong either: Bucky is in more danger the longer he stays out there. Hydra is searching for him and it was sheer luck that the Avengers found him first. But he doesn’t know how long that luck will hold, so the quicker they can bring him in out of the cold, the happier he’ll be.

He straightens his shirt and steps outside, ignoring the way the rest of the team trails him to the door. Bucky’s red eyes snap instantly to him. It’s unsettling, a little terrifying, and Tony has to stop himself from reaching for his sunglasses or from jamming his hands in his pockets. Instead, he holds himself loose and open, hands at his side and palms open so Bucky doesn’t think he’s hiding a weapon in his fists.

“Tony, what do you think you’re doing?” Clint murmurs, alerted to his presence by the sound of the door closing. Natasha is still concentrating on Bucky, trying to soothe him. Even from where he’s standing, he can feel her pheromones washing calm over him and he revises his plan to include her. He’s never felt this kind of strength from her before but he’d be an idiot not to use it.

“It’s okay,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky, who’s growling lowly now. “Go back inside, Natasha and I have got this.”

“Can’t do that,” Clint says. “Steve would have my head if—”

“Steve’s my backup. He’s right inside. Go inside; I can’t calm Bucky down if he’s worrying about you.”

“But—”

“Please.”

He thinks it’s the please that does it. By now, the team knows that the whole Tony Stark doesn’t use social niceties thing is bullshit but he still spends so much time in the workshop, and so much time teasing the others when he’s not working, that it’s still an indicator that he’s completely serious about something.

Clint doesn’t waste time asking any other questions. He, more than anyone else on the team except for Steve, knows better than to underestimate people and question them when they’re confident. And Tony is about as confident as he can be. There are ways that this can go wrong, absolutely, but they’re running out of options and what he’s about to try is something that’s been scientifically proven to be effective.

He doesn’t watch Clint go, though Bucky does, only to snap his gaze right back to Tony as soon as Tony takes a step forward. He places a hand on Natasha’s shoulder as he passes her, murmurs into her ear too low for even supersoldiers to hear, “Keep up the good work. You’re helping,” and comes to a stop within armlength of Bucky, knowing that Bucky could easily reach out and hurt him if he wanted to.

It seems to throw Bucky off, who blinks at him. Tony smiles at him and reaches up to his neck, loosening the scent blocker just enough to dilute the bonded scent pouring off of him and allow his own to filter in.

Bucky blinks again. “Omega,” he says eventually, voice rusty with disuse.

Tony smiles again. “That’s right.”

“And… Stevie?” Bucky guesses. In that moment, he sounds so young that it makes Tony’s heart break. Bucky had his future stolen away from him just the same as Steve did. He can’t fully regret that because it brought them both to him, but he knows how much pain and healing Steve had had to go through after waking up in this century and he knows what Bucky will still have to do, and he hurts for them.

“Steve’s my alpha,” he says. “Do you remember Steve?”

Bucky hesitates and then slowly nods. The red is slowly starting to recede from his eyes—though Tony isn’t sure that has anything to do with what he’s doing or if it’s just because he’s managing to baffle the alpha—and then Natasha shifts. It’s nothing more than a twitch of her leg but Bucky instantly notices it.

Before Tony realizes it, Bucky has snatched him to him, tucked him behind the mass that makes up Bucky’s body, and is snarling at Natasha, eyes scarlet red again. Just barely, he sees the door start to open and if it does, if the team comes out of it ready to fight, they’ll lose Bucky.

“No!” he shouts, startling Bucky. It’s enough though. The door pauses. Tony can see Steve through the crack, looking terrified, but he isn’t hurt. He’s okay. Bucky hasn’t done anything other than seemingly try to protect him.

He darts in front of Bucky again, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and tugs him down to his neck, tucking his face into the loosened scent blocker so he can inhale both Steve and Tony.

“Settle,” he commands. It’s usually a command an alpha uses for their omega but there’s precedence of omegas using it too. He draws on every ounce of strength he typically reserves for the boardroom and pushes it into his voice, ordering him again when Bucky lets out an answering growl.

It takes a moment but Bucky suddenly melts, going limp and boneless against him. Tony’s only half-expecting it; the alpha’s weight takes him by surprise and they sink to the ground, Bucky taking in huge gasping breaths as he breathes in their combined scents.

“Oh my darling,” Tony whispers, hands coming up to stroke through Bucky’s hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

~

Without quite meaning to, Bucky ends up moving into the guest room on his and Steve’s floor. Tony means to put Bucky on his own floor but then Bucky spends the afternoon following him docilely around the common areas, as sweet now as he was feral a few hours earlier. The others still seem a little wary but as time passes and it becomes obvious that Tony is in fact doing some good, they start to relax. By the time they’d be heading up to bed, Bucky is stretched out on the couch, head on Tony’s lap and feet tucked under Steve’s legs, as the team watches a movie.

“I think he’s imprinted on you,” Clint observes dryly as he heads for the elevator. “Like a duck.”

Tony doesn’t look up from where he’s carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair but he feels the alpha tense. “That’s okay, darling,” he comments idly. “I’m pretty sure Steve and I imprinted on each other once we started living together too.”

Natasha groans. “Don’t remind me. It was like watching a Disney movie without the singing animals.”

“Disney movie?” Bucky asks, voice muffled by Tony’s thigh.

“I’ll show you,” Tony assures him.

The rest of the team starts slowly filtering out until it’s just the three of them. Tony and Steve exchange a look over Bucky’s head, not needing to communicate with words after the years they’ve spent together. They’re both concerned about where Bucky will sleep tonight. With a quick glance toward Bucky and a tilt of his eyebrows, Steve tells him that he would be more than happy with Bucky staying with them, but he’ll leave the decision up to Tony. No one likes the scent of a distressed omega after all, and the easiest way to end up with a distressed omega is by inviting someone into their space that they don’t want there.

Fortunately, Tony would be more than happy with Bucky there. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said that one look at Bucky and it had felt like they were meant for each other, just as it had felt with Steve—and, he suspected, just as it had felt with Steve and Bucky, even if they’d never made a move.

But he wants the choice to be Bucky’s, so he gently lifts his hands away from Bucky’s hair and asks, “Bucky? Do you want to have your own floor? We’ve got a few extras for when we expand the roster. Or you could stay on our floor, if you’d prefer?”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate to say, “With you.”

He knows Bucky doesn’t mean it the way he wants, doesn’t mean that he’ll join them in their bed, but maybe… Maybe someday, once Bucky is better (he isn’t so naïve as to think this is the end of it; he only has to look at his own history with backsliding after Afghanistan and Stane and the palladium reactor to know that) and if he and Steve can figure out the right words to invite someone into a triad bond…

Well. Maybe someday.

~

He wakes up in the middle of the night to Steve gently shaking his shoulder. “Waz wrong?” he mumbles, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Did I have a nightmare?”

“No, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, leaning over to kiss his bare shoulder. “Bucky wanted to know if he could join us. Said he was worried about Hydra.” He doesn’t say if Bucky was worried about Hydra taking him away or someone else, Tony or Steve, he notes, but the answer is the same either way.

“’Course he can, long as he’s not a blanket hog.”

He fully expects Bucky to climb in on Steve’s other side. It only makes sense: the two grew up together so of course, Steve would be the middle in this instance. Instead, Steve tugs Tony closer to him so that he’s spooning up behind him, and Bucky crawls under the blankets so that he’s facing Tony, looking more relaxed as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Huh. Maybe there’s something to what Clint was saying about Bucky imprinting on him. He would be more worried, but alphas don’t imprint on someone unless they feel safe with them, unless there’s the beginning stirrings of a mating bond in the back of their mind, even though a full bond takes time, communication, and love to develop. Considering that Tony’s pretty sure he’s imprinted on Bucky the same way, he really isn’t that concerned about Bucky’s feelings.

Still though, he makes a note to sit down and talk with Bucky eventually about how they can’t just rush into this. They’ve all been through too much to immediately strike up a relationship. Bucky isn’t in the right mental state at the moment. And as for Tony, he wants to make sure they’re all on the same page and that Bucky won’t regret this two years down the line. Hell, he’s still uncertain that Steve won’t regret this at some point, so he definitely wants to know that Bucky’s sure of his feelings.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow-Tony, he decides. Tonight, he’s going to snuggle into his alpha’s warmth and enjoy having Bucky close by instead of somewhere out in the world where Tony can’t keep him safe.

~

The next day is weirder. Not in a bad way! Just—here: when Tony finally drags himself away from the warm spots in the bed that his mates (not his mates; his mate and his mate’s best friend… who might one day be his mate), makes his way into the kitchen, and sleepily grumbles, “Coffee,” there are suddenly two steaming mugs in front of him, one from Steve and one from—someone else. He raises his eyes slowly to where Bucky is watching him with hopeful eyes. That answers that question then.

“Uh, thanks, Snowflake,” he says and takes a cautious sip out of the one Bucky put down. It’s not that he thinks it’s poisoned. It’s just that Bucky has been here for less than twenty-four hours, there’s no way that he know how exacting Tony can be about his coffee, how particular—how—how…

Huh. This is pretty damn perfect actually.

He takes another, larger sip and then looks at where Steve is busy making breakfast for the three of them. Steve watches him with an amused look in his eyes. Tony knows Steve isn’t concerned about someone else preparing his coffee—Bruce has done it plenty of times and whenever Rhodey’s in town, he insists that he’s the only one who can make Tony’s coffee—he’s just enjoying watching the two of them together.

He thinks about the nights he used to wake from a dead sleep to the sound of Steve weeping over Bucky, about the concerns he used to share with Tony that Bucky wouldn’t want to stay with them or would want to leave. He wonders now how much of that was fear that Tony wouldn’t want Bucky to stay because he wouldn’t be able to stomach housing the person Hydra used to kill his parents. Silly alpha, he thinks fondly. As though Tony wouldn’t love anyone Steve loves.

At least that’s a fear he can put to rest.

Gulping down half his coffee in one go, he leans back in his chair and casually says, “Steve, you’re fired. Pack your things and go. I’m keeping this one. His coffee is lightyears ahead of yours.”

Steve bursts out laughing and crosses the kitchen to pull him up and kiss him soundly. Tony purrs into the kiss, answered with a low rumble from Steve and then, so low he almost misses it—another rumble from Bucky. He smiles triumphantly and pulls away with another kiss, hands resting on Steve’s broad chest.

“Better finish up that breakfast, soldier,” he says teasingly. “Got things to do today in the workshop and I need my alpha down there to stand around and look pretty. You too, Bucky Babe,” he calls over his shoulder. “Universe gave me two supersoldiers, be a shame not to take advantage of that.”

He doesn’t know what Bucky looks like but the kitchen suddenly scents like contended alpha, and he knows it’s not Steve’s scent because he knows Steve’s scent as well as he knows his own. He smiles again, nuzzles deeper into Steve’s chest and hums happily.

It’s not perfect yet, he thinks, but soon—soon it will be.

~

Tony was right that first day—it takes time, months really. Time for Bucky to backslide and Steve to backslide and Tony to back-shimmy because he doesn’t do anything as gauche as slide. It takes months of therapy, days of consultation with the world’s top experts on how to remove the brainwashing and programming from Bucky’s brain, hours of working together in the workshop on Bucky’s arm as Tony comes up with improvement after improvement.

It’s countless bad nights where Bucky wakes up in a nightmare and reaches to strangle Steve—never Tony, never his omega, but always his best friend—and countless bad days afterward trying to convince him to come back to their bed. It’s figuring out how to work around the myriad of triggers all three of them have and sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes Bucky doesn’t realize that Tony can’t handle baths anymore. Sometimes Steve doesn’t notice that Bucky’s afraid of heights. Sometimes Tony misses that it’s the anniversary of Bucky falling from the train.

It’s bad sometimes.

But it’s good sometimes too.

It’s figuring out how they curl around each other in bed and waking up warm and rested. It’s feeding each other by hand in the morning when they’re too tired to bother with silverware. It’s cups of coffee and donuts with sprinkles and warm hugs. It’s Bucky resting his head on Tony’s lap and tucking his feet under Steve’s legs during movie nights.

It’s Tony and Steve dancing together around the kitchen island as Bucky cooks, watching them fondly. It’s Bucky crooning old songs from the 40s when Steve’s on a mission and Tony can’t sleep without his alpha. It’s Steve and Bucky spending hours walking the streets of Brooklyn, reminiscing about growing up together.

It’s love, blooming slowly but surely for everyone to see.

And when one night as Tony is changing out of the charcoal suit he’d worn for the board meeting that day and into his pajamas and Bucky stops him with a hoarsely whispered, “Doll,” he smiles and guides Bucky’s hand to his waist.

“It’s okay, darling” he murmurs. “You can.”

Bucky’s kiss, when it comes, feels like coming home.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 6

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: i am really excited writing this lately and it’s totally not me avoiding to actually write any uni work. 

previous chapter

    - I think you need to make a choice, dear. - she cocked her head to the side, her own expression muffling the sound of Wanda’s voice cutting through the woods. 

She took a step backwards, unsure. She didn’t remember the time she was allowed such a choice. Her father had forced her into HYDRA’s hands before she could even speak, Bucky had forced her out of the Red Room and Hayward had forced her into SWORD. Looking back, she couldn’t find a single instance where she had been allowed her own agency. She was always dormant, carefully nodding, afraid HYDRA would come and take her back. She had been thrown into a cell during the Civil War’s events by her own agency and kept locked during the Thanos’ situation. The only time she had willingly stepped back was out of fear in Washington. Seeing her father handle the man she loved as if she were a mindless robot had thrown her into the same pit of fear she had always been kept into. It still haunted her to this day, she could still hear the television’s reporter voice as she explained what had happened. Once again, she was taking a step back. - Oh for heaven’s sake.

Agatha rose her hand  in the hand, twirling it as the darkness became sickening light and the woods turned into walls of places of sad occasions whose name and place she preferred not to remember. The ambience was sickly in dark and light green tinges with rusty bars. She did not want to remember it but she did and turning around she was face to face with one of the only happiest memories she had which overtime had became bittersweet. The music was low and muffled, coming from down the hall  were the staff was holding a meeting but it was well heard enough in the soldier’s cell, they could dance. And they did. She could see him and her past self in front off her, her head leaning on top the leather of his bodice, slightly tilted up so she could look him in the eyes, his flesh hand wrapped around hers as they moved side to side. She watched that scene with a sad look, feeling a lump in her throat become bigger and bigger.

   - Ain’t that sweet? - Agatha stood behind her. - So tell me exactly what’s taking you so long to take my help? Isn’t that what you want?

   - Yes. - she mumbled, almost hypnotised by the scene. - But it’s gone, it’s the past.

   - But that’s the thing, my little traumatised girl, it doesn’t need to be. Not for people like you, like us. 

   - No. Past is past and I can’t return to it ... - she moved away from that scene, turning to look at Agatha. - No matter how sad it makes me. 

   - No, dear, that’s not how it works for you.  - she twirled her hand again and the darkness returned but it wasn’t how it was in the woods. No, this was a large dark room barely light as if a flickering spotlight hovered them. She took steps forward, trying to read her situation only to find a pile of lifeless bodies of everyone she had ever known. She took a step back, hand covering her own muffled cry as everyone she had ever knew laid lifelessly around her. - You see, you’re not an element manipulator, that is a gross understatement of what you do and you should have the people who told you that burned at the stake. No, you have the particular talent of controlling matter ... creation magic. Not just in your own particular universe like Wanda but in every universe. It’s permanent, everything you do, doesn’t need a little dome protecting it. It’s powerful magic however when unbalanced, untrained, uncontrolled it becomes destruction magic which is why my dear you can make things disappear. You just make them cease to exist. 

   - The guards ...

   - Ceased to exist. - she interrupted her. - Of course you can bring it back like you did back at the Red Room but it takes time and control. You, of all people, have no control over it and whatever control you have breaks loose whenever Barnes just strolls around. It’s not very feminist of you. 

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice got louder.

   - This ... - Agatha pointed out every dead body surrounding her. -  Is what happens with uncontrolled creation magic. Wanda can’t help you, she’s chaos magic, your foil. I can, I can help you. I can take this burden away from you. Something you didn’t even want in the first place.

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice mixed with the sounds of her own thoughts until it broke through Agatha’s illusion. She looked at her feet, no longer surrounded by the corpses of those she loved yet Agatha was still standing in front of her, a sly smile on her face as if she knew her future. 

   - That’s what the future holds for you if you don’t learn to control it. You’re destruction so far, pure, unaltered, cruel destruction. Fitting considering your choice of lover.

   - WANDA! - Y/N replied back turning on Agatha as if she had been woken up from a bad dream. Agatha mumbled to herself before disappearing into the darkness of the night as Y/N searched for the Scarlet Witch. It didn’t take long for her to find her, noticing the look of pure worry in her eyes just like the time when her children were in danger. - Wanda, I ...

   - WHAT THE FUCK, Y/N? Don’t you do this to me EVER AGAIN. - she dropped her hands, eyes returning to her regular hue. - If you weren’t my age, I would have grounded you. 

   - I’m younger than you Wanda. - she sighed, small smile on her face. - I just thought I saw ... something.

   - What something? - they walked together through the hex. Watching the dome like safe haven they had created, Y/N didn’t find it in herself to tell her. Maybe Hayward was right, maybe the daughter of a villain only had promises of becoming a villain herself. Yet again, she had seen it. She had seen what being around them could lead to and that image was tattooed on her brain no matter how much she tried to throw it to Agatha trying to manipulate her. - Y/N? 

   - I thought I saw Agatha. - she said, stepping just a behind the border of the hex. 

   - Did you see her? Did she spoke to you?

   - No. - she said, almost robotically like as the Scarlet Witch allowed the hex to open for them to enter. Instead of finding Bucky on the swings, Vision was sat there, awaiting both of them to arrive. 

Before any of them could speak, Y/N took to leaving the couple, walking straight towards the door of her own bedroom and locking it on her way in. She  leaned against her door, letting herself slide until she hit the ground, hands cupping her head as she told herself not to cry. There was no use in crying about it, the only use was to make a decision; however, she would be damned if she allowed anyone to have agency over her again. No, she wasn’t her father’s daughter, she wasn’t HYDRA’s failed experiment, Hayward’s project or the Winter Soldier’s lover. No, she wasn’t just one. She was a tweaked amalgamation of everything people had told her she was and now that identity was shrouded in fear. Fear of what she was capable of, of what she had made to me. Somehow, things felt simpler before she had any answers. 

  - Y/N? 

  - Gosh. - she put her hand over her chest as Vision passed through her wall as if it weren’t concrete. - The door is closed, Vision. It is not an invitation to pass through my wall. 

  - I am terribly sorry about that but Wanda is worried. - he sat next to her. - And since you are the godmother of my children, I do consider you part of my family.

   - Are you here to give me a philosophy lesson, Vision?

   - It is not my place to tell you what to do. You’ve done well enough for yourself over the years. 

   - Your intelligence is much more mathematical than mine.  I actually have a question for you.

   - Please do not ask me again what is the meaning of life. - Y/N laughed at his worried voice, shaking her head no.

   - Do you believe creation and destruction can live together? Balanced?

   - Well, I don’t think one can live without each other. Humans are born and then they die, creation and destruction. Nature is filled with it, it’s almost based on it. I mean, isn’t love creation and destruction? Heartbreak and emotion.

   - Destruction is overwhelming. -  she leaned her head against  the door, looking up at the ceiling. - It’s merely a downfall. 

    - Maybe you should chose a different philosophy question.

    - I don’t think I can. - she mumbled to herself before turning her face to the synthezoid. -  You should probably return to Wanda. She hates sleeping alone. 

He gave her a sympathetic look only to leave her standing in the middle of her room surrounded by her own insecurities which always clawed at her during the evenings. Raising her hand and seeing the familiar white glow everything felt much more scary to her. She had been better off thinking she could control the elements rather than matter itself. Yet part of her scoffed at HYDRA for not being able to figure it out soon enough. Still, it was not natural, not for her. She was a hand to hand combat trained fighter, barely using that which lied straight at her surface. Agatha was right, she couldn’t control it. She knew she couldn’t and whatever power she had around it was fickle. Too fickle. 

It was best to forget and move ahead. Have a cup of tea, it will make you feel better, Monica would tell her whenever someone particularly got on her nerves while at SWORD and right now it sounded like the best idea. However, opening her tea box, there was nothing but dust. She sighed, removing her boots and grabbing her nightgown before unlocking the door and walking towards the kitchen. Finding the kitchen, she also found the same person who seemed to hover over her thoughts, putting the kettle on top the hob.

   - It’s an electrical kettle. - she said, sly smirk as she turned on the hob before Bucky could destroy Wanda’s precious kettle. - It doesn’t go on the hob.

    - Oh ... - he felt stupid not knowing that yet he felt even more speechless in front of her as she put the kettle on the base and turned it on. - Less fire prone?

    - Oh no, Billy has set it almost on fire several times. - silence installed between the two as they tried to find something to say which sounded organic and not just forced.

    - Night cravings? 

    - I guess you could call it that. You?

    - Can’t sleep. 

    - Sam annoying you? We could always put you two on different rooms. 

    - Just nightmares, really. - he stood by her side, watching the water boil on the glass kettle. - Did I use to have them ... back then?

    - It depended. - she sighed. - Most of the times, yes. I’ve been having them too lately so I have resorted to not sleeping. 

   - That’s not very functional, is it doll?

   - I wouldn’t really use functional as a way to describe myself. - she looked at him, mostly wanting to lighten the mood yet it only seemed to harden his expression. - No one in my direct family is very functional either. 

    - You are not your father. You know that, right? - his hand lingered over her wrist as her torso moved to stand in front against his. His hand found her, fingers intertwining as if it was second nature to him. - I figured you would’ve found that out over all this time.

    - Do you think I could become like him? - she looked at her own feet. - Evil is not born, evil is made. Do you think I could become like him ... a villain?

    - No. - he shook his head as if her words were mere ramblings of a crazy person. - I’d bet my own life on it. 

    - There’s a way ... there’s someone who keeps offering me the opportunity to be normal. Not have whatever it is I have, just ordinary civilian life in a regular town surrounded by regular people. 

   - Y/N, the last thing you will ever be is ordinary. Nothing about you or me for that matter is ordinary. You can’t pursue an ordinary life ... you can pursue something that makes you happy. 

   - What if what makes me happy is being ordinary?

   - I spent most the last year wanting to ordinary, Y/N. I was not happy, I was just going through the motions and now ... well I found peace in the unpredictable, no matter how much I cannot control it.

    - Are you happy now? - she looked into his eyes, an honest and truly scary question. One that she could barely answer if it were her. 

     - You always made me happy. - her hands left the marbled kitchen stone so she could wrap her arms around him, head leaned against the soft fabric of his jumper. He sighed, kissing the top of her head, as his hand caressed her back, the other one keeping her flushed to him. Y/N slowly raised her head to look at him, watching his eyes reflect the moon light like they always did. Some things  never change. Bucky hand climbed from her back to cup her face, allowing her skin to sink into his roughed hand which probably had more cuts than it should. She looked at him like no one else did and she had seen it all. Heck, she’d seen things Bucky wished she would’ve never seen but she still looked at him like any other woman looked at their cared ones. 

    - It hurts every single day. - she mumbled, almost ashamed to admit to the man who had been through the most that it was starting to become hard to get up every time she fell down. - Everyone says they can help me but I feel like I’m being constantly knocked down and I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of always getting up, it hurts so much and for once I just want to lay down. 

    - It’s okay. - his finger caressed her cheek, metal arm still rubbing up and down her back. Bucky never liked to touch his face with his metal hand, he refused. - You don’t have to get up every single time and if you can’t there’s so many people here who’d give you a helping hand. You’re not alone, Y/N.

    - Yes, I am. - she bite the inside of her lip. - I’ve seen it and it’s only a matter of time before I hurt everyone. 

    - You’re not gonna hurt anyone, Y/N. 

    - It’s not my choice. - she took a step forward away from him. - It was decided for me.

    - Whatever you do ... - Bucky scratched his neck, trying to compose himself, his own words running through his mind as he wondered if he had done something wrong. - I’ll stand by your side. 

    - I ... I should probably get going. 

    - Me too, Sam might woke up and think I tried to escape ... again.

    - See you tomorrow, Bucky. - she spoke as he took initiative to leave first, wondering if he had done something to make her upset, said something wrong. 

Y/N waited for him to be far off before she took further and further into the building. It was always dark there and not a lot of people were allowed in that particular area of their own base. Wanda herself had stuffed some particular nasty things in that area as well as some of SHIELDs and SWORDs experimentation notes. Only some people could get in and she was one of those people. Despite this she twirled her hand, opening the door without using a card. The darkness only seemed to intensify, as she got closer and closer to it, the room only barely light by the almost scary aura. The room where Wanda Maximoff had stored the Darkhold.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @austynparksandpizza​

[smediumsmeatbae]

14 and 34 for Steve Rogers? If you are doing the NSFW prompts! No worries if you aren’t! Thank you

Thank you so much for requesting this! I apologize that this is so late. September was bonkers for me. Hope you like this! 

TITLE: A Hero’s Sacrifice  PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Reader  SUMMARY: Steve is always sacrificing himself for the good of the mission. What happens when he leaves his teammates high and dry? WORDS: 2,384 WARNINGS: Smut! No one under 18 plz. Swearing, angst in the beginning, bad smut writing *shrugs*. A/N: What??? K’s actually putting some writing out there??? Omg. :D This is my first smut with Steve and my first writing in about a month or so I think. So I’m a bit rusty. Also I suck at summaries so sorry. Lmao. Also, a special shout out to @angrythingstarlight. She has been a constant encouragement and companion through this really bad writing block. Thank you so much, sweet friend! No beta, all mistakes are my own. Please do not post this anywhere else without my permission Likes are amazing. Reblogs and comments are better. 

 --------****-------- 

 The crisp New York air kissed your cheeks as you stood on the rooftop of the Avengers compound. It was a quiet and clear night, crickets chirping softly in the background as the round moon lit the scenery before you and put everything in a hazy glow. This peaceful scene, however, did nothing to quell the anger and anxiety in your bones. The mission had been compromised. Your teammates and you barely got out with your lives, all because your leader, your captain, had to be a goddamn hero. 

Yes he was Captain America, yes he had saved the world hundreds of times. He knew how to handle himself. That didn't mean that he wasn’t infallible. And because he was your superior officer, because the moniker of Captain America demanded respect, there wasn't shit you could say to him. You wanted to punch him, wanted to scream at him, tell him he had been an idiot for running off alone, without a plan, leaving you alone with your teammates clueless as to what to do. 

A goddamn idiot. 

 Not that he'd listen if you could yell at him. Steve wasn't much for following orders if it meant a compromise to his values and morals. Normally, that was what you admired about him, what you maybe even found attractive about him, if you were honest with yourself. You couldn't think about that at the moment. The only thing that came to your mind when thinking about Steve was giving him a good knee to the balls. 

The access door to the rooftop opened and your ears perked up at the sound of it. You turned around, to see who it was. You couldn’t hide the huff from your mouth and the roll of your eyes as Steve came waltzing through. What could he possibly want with you? He knew that you wanted to be left alone when you came up to the roof. 

“Someone better be dying, Rogers.” 

You didn't bother turning around completely to look at him. Your stance was close guarded even before Steve came through the door; arms crossed, head down, scowl permanently etched to your face. Then, when he made an appearance, your whole body went rigid. He was the last person you wanted to see. 

“No, no one’s dying. I just…”  “Then you should know I want to be alone right now, Captain.” Your voice came out more harsh than you intended, the hurt and anger of your feelings oozing out into them. You couldn’t exactly say you were sorry for how you sounded, though. 

“Okay, I’ll just leave then.”   “That makes sense. You love just leaving, huh. You’re pretty good at it, Steven.” “Look, I just got chewed out for two hours by Fury. I don’t need it as well from someone who is supposed to be my friend.” “Your friend?” You spat. “Friends don’t compromise each other’s safety. Friends don’t leave each other hanging in the middle of a battle!” 

He hung his head in that moment and sighed out, putting his hands on his hips. Clenching and un-clenching his jaw, he looked at you as if he was trying to figure out what to say. He looked conflicted and sad and tired. All the emotions and physical exhaustion of the day was catching up to him. Well, you weren’t going to be the one to feel sorry for him. 

“While you’re trying to think of a comeback, Rogers, I’ll be downstairs. The air is getting too chilly up here anyway.” 

As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your arm opposite of him, blocking you from the door. His eyes were a mix of energies: anxiousness at the forefront, You had never seen him so vulnerable. 

“Hydra was there for me. To kill me.”  “Hydra… but the briefing didn’t say anything about Hydra agents.” You looked up at him, confused. “I spotted them as you and the team were taking down the enemy we actually came for. They were sleeper agents; highly skilled assassins. If I would have stayed there, they would have killed you all just to get to me. I had to draw them away.” “I can take care of myself, Rogers. You should have let us help you.”  “I couldn’t… I couldn’t let anything... “ His voice trailed off and he swallowed thickly as you looked up at him. Was he trying to hold back tears? “Steve…” 

Your hand absentmindedly reached out and cupped his cheek. Your body seemed to forget all together that you were still mad at him. You couldn’t contain yourself though. No matter how pissed you were at Steve, you knew when he needed you and you couldn’t deny him that. He looked at you then, a single tear falling from his eyes, more threatening to find his way down. There was something else there too, something that you couldn’t quite figure out until it happened. Steve’s mouth was on yours, needy and wanting, and also tender and honest. He pulled your body into his with one hand and put the other behind your head, keeping you close to him. 

 “I couldn’t let them have you, you’re mine.” Steve rasped against your lips as he parted away. Your breath was shallow and ragged, as if he had kissed all the air out of you. Leaning up, you kissed him again, this time more sure in your actions, letting him know you wanted this just as much as he did. Steve swiped his tongue along the bottom of your mouth, asking for access and you granted it to him, both of you exploring each other's mouths. Hands were wandering; your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands were moving closer to your ass. God you loved how he towered over you as he kissed you. How his broad shoulders seemed to swallow your frame in his embrace. You wanted more, you needed more. 

“Take me to your room.” You breathed out a whisper, breaking the kiss again. 

Your hands were clinging onto his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, closer to you. You had a desperation to feel him, all of him and if you stayed on that roof any longer, you were going to make that happen in front of all of nature and anyone who decided to also come up on the roof. 

Steve just nodded and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door. The sexual tension was palpable as you rode the elevator down to his floor and walked towards his room. There was this electricity between the two of you where before there was none. Steve and you had been friends before but he was your superior and while there weren't any rules about dating, he had a moral obligation to distance himself romantically from you. You accepted his decision and kept your distance as well, even if you did have a crush on him. Everything now, after you had both thought you lost each other, after all the intense emotions of the day, after the roof, his moral obligations didn't seem to bother him any longer as he was taking you to his room. 

Once there and the door had clicked shut, he was on you. His mouth slotted against yours, passionate kisses causing shivers to go throughout your whole body. You moaned in response, your hands sliding up his chiseled chest, making their way around his neck. His hands rested onto your hips, squeezing them and rocking them towards him slightly. 

"Been wanting this for so long." He purred as he stroked your back lightly with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful."  "Oh god, me too." You breathed, heat flooding your belly. 

You stood like that for a bit, arms and lips searching each other in the living room, taking each other in. He was so beautiful it sometimes made you ache just to look at him. Now, with his intense blue eyes looking at you, lust blown, you could see the want in his eyes as well. Hands a bit shaky, you took them and guided them down to the buttons on Steve’s oxford shirt, unbuttoning each one. You could feel his hot breath onto your skin as his hands nimbly pulled at your tank top and pulled it up, grazing your skin with his knuckles as he did so. Once his buttons were free, you lifted your arms to help Steve rid you of your shirt. Gingerly, as if you were going to break at the action, he cupped your breasts with one of his palms and lightly thumbed over your stiff nipples. 

“God, you're amazing.” He breathed as he captured your mouth again, still keeping a steady rhythm with his hands but you could feel him holding back. "More, Steve, please." You mewled into his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. "Don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart." He panted in between kisses. "'M enhanced, I can... take it." You urged out your words as Steve caught a soft spot on your neck. "Don't wanna chance it."  "I’ll take you against that fucking wall if I have to, Rogers." You frowned playfully and wickedly at him as you pulled away from his assault on your neck, with great effort. 

A growl ripped from inside him, something coming loose from your words. He picked you up with ease by your ass and started carrying you to where you assumed was his bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his slim torso, body on fire with his touch. His steps were heavy down the hall, making your core bump against him, and it made you even more hot for this man. This Adonis of a man was about to absolutely ruin you and you couldn't be more happy. 

Steve laid you down on the bed and wordlessly started to undress the bottom half of you. He pulled off your leggings and panties in one swift moment, causing you to gasp slightly at the action. You felt the air rush to your legs and between as well, signalling how wet you were. Steve groaned at the sight of you before him, glistening and ready. You sat up to lean on your elbows, biting your lower lip slightly, wanting to see all of Steve as he started to undress as well. The clink of his belt was like a song to your ears and you could already see his bulge straining painfully against his slacks. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he pulled down his pants and boxers, his erection springing free and bobbing below his belly button. A small, involuntary moan slipped past your lips as he leaned onto the bed, making his way toward you. You felt the dip of the mattress around your body as he hovered over you, his blonde locks coming loose around his face. You could feel the heat coming off of his body as his arms caged you in under him. 

Redistributing his weight, he leaned over heavily onto his right arm and took his other hand and ran it down your side. It felt delicious, him feeling all of your curves and you practically purred at the sensation as shivers flooded your body. He got to your lower thigh and hooked his strong arm around it, pulling it over his hip. The heel of your foot dug into his perfect ass as you braced yourself for him; you didn't know how much longer you could wait. 

“Steve, ple---” Before you could get another word out, Steve pushed the tip of him into you, causing you to let out a moan. “What was that, sweetheart?” He smiled cheekily at you. “Just shut up and start moving.”  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. 

He was gentle at first, letting you get used to his size. Then, once he knew you were ready, he started in on a brutal pace, snapping his hips into you with precision, taking you closer and closer to the edge. You spurred him on as well, demanding for Steve to go harder, faster, to let go. At one point, you were having to put your hands on the headboard above you to keep your head from slamming onto the wooden frame. Even though he was slamming into you at an amazing pace, you a moaning mess under him, he still gingerly swept your hair away from your sweat soaked face and kissed you, checking the look in your eyes to make sure you were doing okay. You would almost be endeared with it if you weren’t so fucked out. 

You could feel yourself starting to come undone, the pressure in your belly mounting like a roller coaster climbing up its first hill. Once you were over the hill, you yelled out in pleasure, your hands gripping tightly onto the rails of the headboard as you rode through your orgasm. You could tell Steve was close as well as his pace became erratic and his breathing was becoming labored. You took your hands off of the headboard and clawed at his back, staring him in the eyes causing him to moan out. 

“Come for me, Steve. You feel so good, baby.” You caught his shoulder in your mouth and bit down. 

He let go, letting out gasps of breath and shouting out, filling you up completely. It caused you to have another mini orgasm from the feeling of his. Sticky with sweat, and completely sated, Steve landed on the bed and rolled over to his side, taking the sheets and covering both of you with them. You rolled over to meet him, hugging his body to you as you laid your head on his chest. 

“Don't ever sacrifice yourself again.” You said so quietly that you thought he didn’t hear you. “Can't promise that, doll.” Steve replied as he lazily stroked your shoulder. “I know. Can’t blame a girl for trying though.” 

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that he couldn’t. He would always be the man to make the sacrifice play, to be the one to lay down on the wire for his team. You know that you couldn’t, and wouldn’t change him, but there with your head on his shoulder, you took some comfort to know that he was there for now.

--------****--------

TAGS: 

@t-stark35

@angrythingstarlight

@cheeseburgersstuff

@chrissquares

[dontcallmecarrie]

Hey, in that snippet for BDEL Dummy is in Tony bag, and wasn't he like, a lot bigger than that in Canon? I think you mentioned his (Dummy's) lockpicinking skills somwhere, so I wanted to ask, if you don't mind me asking - How does Dummy look? What can he do? How about other bots? They would need to be movable, I guess, so, small. Do you have any headcanons about it?

I might’ve mentioned this before so if anything looks familiar, that’s why. 

Long story short, By Dawn’s Early Light is an AU that goes wildly AU long before we reach canon. When Maria Stark took her kid and ran, she also raised hell along the way and there’s some pros and cons to this timeline.

Pro: Obadiah Stane’s double-dealing and HYDRA both get made decades ahead of schedule.

Con: Technology in this universe is also affected, and that includes DUM-E and the other robots.

Bear in mind that in this universe, Tony Stark went missing from the public eye right around when he was seven. He had a way happier childhood than he would have otherwise, but it also came with the caveat that he knew his family always had be ready to run. 

First, because Howard would stop at nothing to find his missing heir and regularly sent out a small army’s worth of private detectives to search. Later on, because Uncle James was also hiding from jackbooted types and Tony didn’t have to look at the headlines to know HYDRA was bad news.

While sure, they all enjoyed living quietly, they were also always ready for the slightest hint of trouble to get the hell out of dodge— and stuff like that? It leaves marks. 

Not necessarily bad marks, but marks nevertheless. 

In this case, Tony never had pets. At first because he wasn’t used to the idea—Howard would’ve sneered at the prospect of getting a dog, let alone cats or anything else. Would’ve made a disdainful crack about how Tony had better things to do, shouldn’t be wasting his time on animals or whatever not to mention if he didn’t hesitate hitting his wife and son, Tony wouldn’t have put it past the guy to kick an innocent dog and sure maybe he was bitter but can you blame him?

…anyway. So, yeah, no pets in the Stark Mansion. 

But when they lived away from him, they didn’t get pets either. Because the moment Tony started to get interested in what all the fuss was about, he remembered just how hard it was to hide when it was just him and his mom, and if they had to run they’d only be able to take what they could carry and leave everything else behind. Anything that depended on him might very well die for all he’d know, and it’d weigh on his conscience all the more for it. 

That’s also why Tony doesn’t tend to get attached to a lot of things, either. No toys, no teddy bears, barely had any houseplants for that matter. If he couldn’t carry it in his pockets, there was a risk he’d have to leave it behind— and because of that mindset, he had to get even more creative when he made DUM-E and Butterfingers.

Because in this AU, Tony doesn’t have access to the resources he might have in canon. Doesn’t have a rich father paying for the best tutors, doesn’t have a fully-stocked workshop with power tools, just whatever he can scavenge from thrift stores and junkyards. 

All this combined means that instead of robotic arms big enough to help him around the workshop, Tony instead has two tiny agents of chaos who he can carry around.

Remember Stabby the Roomba? Yeah. That’s DUM-E, in a nutshell.

Something small, capable of moving independently and who Tony could trust to come back to him no matter how hairy the situation ever got. Not necessarily pretty, a Frankenbot whose early incarnations resembled little more than a brick and involved unholy amounts of paperclips and duct tape to work, but still fully functional at the end of the day. Also scarily competent when it came to sabotage, despite not actually having anything resembling opposable thumbs [at first, anyway].

Butterfingers…is a lot more infiltration-oriented. He was created right after shit hit the fan, and Tony was only just starting to travel alone. Despite his name, Butterfingers is the one Tony trusts to sneak in and steal keys and open doors. Not that Tony’s going to let himself get rusty at lockpicking, but up until he built his armor, these two robots were his only physical backup for the longest time. 

It was DUM-E creating a distraction that got him out of a tough scrape more than once, and it was thanks to Butterfingers’ obsession with shiny pointy things that he got out of the Kilian Incident without so much as a scratch.

Tony gives them both upgrades whenever he has the time and resources. That’s how DUM-E gets his claw grip, and Butterfingers gets his microphones and the best cameras a broke teenager can reasonably get. Each and every time, they get smaller, and faster, and as durable as he can make them.

By the time Tony’s at Culver University, Butterfingers can pass as a slightly bulky pager in his pocket, while he tells everyone that DUM-E is his field-test for his research if they ever spot him…which is typically via tripping over him, because he is a goddamn menace from the ankles and below.

…and even more of a menace when things get real, and after the Green Incident, Bruce didn’t know how to feel about the very, very long list of people with stubbed toes and sprained and broken ankles as they made their escape. 

Or about the tiny skittering hellion who’d somehow managed to set off every single fire alarm in a five-block radius, for that matter, or the nascent Skynet who was helpfully giving him intel on how to get past the next patrol, and the more this whole mess goes on the more he feels that despite being the guy responsible for Culver U needing new research facilities thanks to a shiny new anger management issue, he might very well be the least scary guy in his friend group.

[keybladeswar]

Sunshine (Demyx X fem!reader)

Words: 2216

Warnings: None. This is wholesome.

Summary: You and Demyx are sent to look for keyblade wielders in Olympus/Thebes, and Demyx convinces you to take a day off.

Author’s note: I haven’t written fanfiction in literal years, so I might be a little rusty. Thought this would be a good way to do some short writing exercises, though. If you like this, please share it! Since this is a new blog, I don’t expect it to reach many people. I’m also open to trying out requests, so if you’re interested, let me know!

*

“This is so boring!” Demyx complained beside you.

“Shut up, or they’ll hear you!” you hissed back. “Besides, would you rather be the one fighting?”

“Point taken,” he said. “I just don’t get why we get all the boring jobs.”

You didn’t necessarily find this job boring. It was better than some you’d had, at least. Xemnas has sent the two of you to Thebes to look for potential keyblade wielders, specifically a man named Hercules. You’d found him quite easily, but you were sure it was a mistake when you did. He was just a boy and a scrawny one at that. But your opinion changed when you saw him throw a frisbee and knock down a whole row of columns. So the boy was strong. Very strong.

You and Demyx watched him as he set off on a journey of self-discovery, learned he was a son of the god Zeus, and began training with a satyr named Phil to become a hero. Maybe this guy was keyblade material after all.

And so you waited. And waited. You watched as he progressed through his training, growing into a muscular young man. The keyblade never appeared.

Demyx wanted to give up. He was tired of being away from his bed and the comfort of the World that Never Was and being able to play his sitar whenever he wanted. If it were just him, he would’ve quit a long time ago, given Xemnas some excuse.

And that’s exactly why they sent you along with him.

Demyx has been your companion since your early days in the Organization. If you had a heart, you’d probably call him your best friend. But the two of you couldn’t be more different. Demyx was laid back, lazy even. You were a perfectionist and a workaholic. If you had something to do, you wouldn’t quit until it was done. And it didn’t help that you were scared of what might happen if you failed a mission. When the higher ups realized that you kept Demyx on track (or as on track as he can be), you two almost never went on a mission without the other.

So while he was bored out of his mind, you were intrigued. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you thought that a part of you was rooting for this Hercules fellow. Not just for the Organization’s sake but because there was just something about him that you had to root for.

Today was the day that Hercules set out for the big city to try to find real hero’s work. When he heard a scream and immediately ran toward it, you were intrigued. Would this finally be the day?

Now you and Demyx sat hidden in the branches of a tall tree as Hercules fought some monster who’d been trying to kidnap a young woman. You watched intently, waiting for the flash of light, for the keyblade to appear.

But Hercules defeated the monster and there was still nothing. You sighed.

“See? It’s not gonna happen. Now can we take a break? It’s hot out here and I’m starving. Let’s go get some gyros.”

“Fine, I’m getting hungry too,” you admitted. “But as soon as we’re done, we’re back on his trail. Just for a few more days. Surely something will happen.”

***

Hercules became Thebes favorite hero overnight. He had posters, action figures, mobs of screaming fans, but no keyblade. Your stomach twisted. Xemnas would expect a report soon, and what would happen if there was nothing to report? Would he blame you?

“Y/N... Y/N!”

You jumped at the sound of Demyx’s voice, startled to see him standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What?”

“We’re taking a vacation,” he stated, holding out a gloved hand.

You stared at it. “A vacation?” You’d been so lost in your thoughts that you were having trouble comprehending what he was talking about.

“Yep. A vacation. Look around you.” He spread his arms out. You looked around at the vibrant city around you. The tall marble pillars, the statues dedicated to gods, the rolling hills in the distance. “This place is amazing. We don’t get the chance to come to worlds as cool as this one that often, and I don’t plan on missing the chance to have an awesome vacation.”

“But we’re on a mission. And we don’t get vacations,” you added almost as an afterthought.

“Maybe technically. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take one. And I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve been miserable the past few days. I miss your smile,” Demyx said.

You blinked. Had it really been that noticeable how worried you were? Demyx wasn’t the type to pick up on things that bothered people, so it must be bad.

You chewed your lip. “Sounds like a bad idea.”

“Well that’s the thing about me. I’m full of bad ideas, and they haven’t bit me in the ass yet.” He grabbed your hand and hauled you to your feet. “Come on. I have a whole day planned. Just one day, then we can go back to stalking the hero guy.”

You hesitated. This went against your whole mindset. Work first, play later. But work wasn’t getting anywhere. And... would one day really matter that much? You took a deep breath, looked up at him, and smiled. “Okay, lets do it.”

“Yes!” Demyx cheered. Then he reached down and picked up the sack lying behind him that you hadn’t noticed. He tossed it to you, and you caught it with ease, something he himself would never have been able to do.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“If we’re going to be walking around in public, we need to at least look the part,” he said. “Get changed. I’ll be back in ten.” With that, he opened a dark portal and stepped through it, leaving you alone.

Curiously, you opened the sack. You pulled out the heap of fabric it contained. It was a toga dress, one of the typical white ones you’d seen many of the women wearing. You peeled off one of your black leather gloves and touched the fabric. Soft. It had been a long time since you’d worn anything that soft, or anything other than black for that matter. You retreated to the cover of the trees and after making sure no one was around slipped out of your Organization gear and into the dress. You were surprised to feel vulnerable, almost as if you were naked. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been somewhere outside of your room without your gloves and cloak covering you from head to toe. Now here you stood, arms bare and the breeze causing the skirt to brush lightly against your legs. You took your hair out of the bun you kept it in for combat, instead braiding it loosely down your back in one of the styles you’d seen done in this world.

“So I thought first we’d—“ At the sound of Demyx’s voice, you turned surprised to see him stop dead in his tracks. “Uh...”

“Is something wrong? Did I not put this on correctly?” You looked down checking over your clothes.

“No, no! It’s just...” His face turned pink. “Well, I didn’t expect you to look so much like, you know, a girl.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Well, I didn’t expect you to look so much like...” You pauses as you looked over his new clothes, searching for a comeback. Demyx wore the masculine style of the same yoga as yours. For someone who was pretty thin and regularly described as wimpy by the others, you were surprised to see the definition in his bare arms. For the amount of time the two of you spent together, you realized neither of you had ever seen the other out of uniform. You found yourself wondering how Demyx’s arms were so muscular. Did he secretly exercise? Maybe it was from carrying that sitar around so much. Either way, you’d completely forgotten you were trying to come up with an insult. “Hercules,” you finished.

“Hercules?” Demyx snorted.

“You know,” you added quickly, “Before all the training.” You turned to pick up your coat and gloves, trying to hide the rush of heat that flooded your cheeks. Where did that come from?

“Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want,” he said. You were relieved to let the awkward moment go and pretend it never happened. “Anyway, today’s the one day Hercules isn’t actually competing at the Colosseum so I got us tickets. Thought we could watch a few matches, have a picnic up on the hill to actually get some sun, and then go see a play tonight. There’s this one called Oedipus Rex and it’s supposed to be crazy.”

“Okay but if Xemnas finds out—“

“Xemnas isn’t going to find out unless you tell him, which I don’t suggest. Just relax, Y/N. This is going to be a great day. You’ll have fun. I promise.”

And have fun you did. The two of you cheered loudly at the colosseum as heroes took on monsters great and small like the Minotaur and the Hydra. You gasped when the Hydra lost one head only to grow back seven more. When the matches were done, Demyx bought you a t-shirt that read “Get up on the Hydra’s back” and you bought him one that declared him Hercules’s number one fan. You wore them over your togas for the rest of the day as you wandered through Thebes, snacking on pomegranates from the market and admiring the marble statues placed all over town. You took a trip to one of the gardens, splashing each other in the fountain until you were drenched and the security guards kicked you out. Demyx got the last laugh by sending a ball of water at the guard’s head, and the two of you took off running before he could catch you. As you struggled to catch your breath, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had this much fun. Actually, you hadn’t really had any kind of fun since becoming a nobody and joining the Organization. You’d started to wonder if you were even capable of having fun any more, but spending the day with Demyx proved otherwise.

Now, you lay in the grass on the hill overlooking the city. You were just far enough away that the urban sounds faded away and you could hear the birds singing overhead, along with Demyx quietly tuning his sitar. Your eyes were closed as you lay on your back, the sun warming you and drying your clothes from your earlier water fight. After a few moments, you opened your eyes and turned your head toward Demyx. He was looking out toward Thebes, the sun highlighting his face. He looked so peaceful, so at ease. He looked the way you felt. You hadn’t realized how stressed you’d been until now, but he had. He knew you needed a break, a day of pretending you were just a normal person.

“Demyx?”

“Hmm?” He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, and you thought you felt a twinge of some sort in your chest.

You turned toward the sky again, watching the clouds float by. You sighed. “I’ve just been thinking... Do you think we’ll ever get our hearts back? What if this is all for nothing?”

“Well...” He set his sitar down and laid down next to you, looking up at the clouds, too. “I dunno. I guess I’ve never really questioned it. That’s what this is all about, right? Us being in this world, watching Hercules. We’re looking for someone to get our hearts back.”

“Yeah...” You hesitated. “I just... Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s stupid.”

“And everything I say isn’t?” he joked. He rolled onto his side and propped himself on one arm to look at you. “Come on. What is it?”

You chewed your lip. You’d never admitted this to anyone, not even yourself. “Sometimes I feel like I never lost my heart to begin with.” You said it all in one breath and then dared to look over at him. “I told you, it was stupid. I know we don’t have them but—“

“I get what you mean.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I mean... We all feel things. Just look at how angry Larxene gets when she sees me. And Saix. And... well, moving on. Then there’s Axel and Roxas and Xion. No one can say those three don’t care about each other in some way. And then there’s you...”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but he looked flustered. “I’d be upset if something happened to you. Even if I don’t have a heart.”

“Really?” He nodded and you smiled. “I guess I’d be upset if something happened to you, too.”

You both laughed quietly and then fell into a silence as you watched the sun begin to sink lower in the sky. I’d be more than upset, you thought to yourself. Demyx was the one beam of light in your otherwise dark existence. He was your sunshine.

You felt Demyx’s hand brush softly against yours, and you swore you felt a heartbeat.

[imjustthemechanic]

Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late Part 6/? - The Mystery of the Missing Time Machine Part 7/? - Underway Part 8/? - The Sierra Bunker        

If they were going to go to the bunker, Peggy and Howard would need a car.  Toulouse took them to an Enterprise Rent-A-Car not far from the hotel, and Peggy talked Toulouse down from the silver Porsche to a blue Nissan while Howard wandered around the lot, expressing his deep suspicion at the fact that most of the cars were Japanese.  Once they had the vehicle, there was one more thing Peggy had to do.

“Toulouse,” she said gently, “I think you ought to go back to the hotel now.  We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.  If we’re wrong, or if HYDRA knows something we don’t, somebody might be there waiting for us.”

This was something of a test.  Toulouse hadn’t turned them in yet, so if she were actually involved in the whole affair, her role appeared to be nothing more than keeping an eye on them.  If she were under orders to do that, she wouldn’t want to let them out of her sight, no matter what she’d promised over breakfast.

Toulouse gave a disappointed sigh.  “I figured you’d say that,” she said.  “I’ll give you some money, and you can get cell phones.  Best Buy has the pre-paid ones.  Then if you need help, or if I find out something, we can text each other.”  She opened her purse, which had several embroidered patches on it, to find her wallet.

“What are you likely to find?” asked Howard

“I’m going to take a look around the hotel and see if there really is an apocalypse bunker.”  Toulouse handed Peggy some cash.  “If there’s anything interesting in it, I’ll let you know.”

Interesting.  Not only had Toulouse let them pick the car, thus making it unlikely she could track them, she was offering to let them buy their own phones.  Peggy wasn’t sure about Dalton Sandhill and his sons, but Toulouse, she decided, was probably trustworthy.  Even if her father were involved with HYDRA, he’d probably left her out of it because she was the girl.

At the Best Buy they bought cheap cell phones. Peggy used a mnemonic trick she knew to commit Toulouse’s number to memory, since she wasn’t sure she trusted this little machine to remember it for her.  Then, as Peggy went to get in the car, Toulouse stopped her.

“Look,” the young woman said, “if I don’t see you guys again, I just want to say, this has been absolutely brilliant.  People have been talking about how this is a new era. I’ve heard it called the Age of Miracles, what with the aliens and the superheroes and all that sort of thing, but this is the first time I’ve ever met anyone who was part of it.  So this was just… just tremendous, even if all I got to do was find you hotel rooms.”  She gave Peggy a beaming smile.

Peggy wasn’t used to being thanked for letting somebody take part in the absolute nonsense, often bloody dangerous nonsense, that was such a part of her life. It took her a moment to manage a response.  “Thank you, Toulouse,” she said.  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, and I’m very glad you’re willing to bow out when I ask you to.  I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

Toulouse nodded, and then pulled Peggy in for a big hug.hen they parted a moment later, Toulouse’s eyes were decidedly liquid.

“I wouldn’t say goodbye just yet,” Howard said. “Unless the time machine’s just sitting there still in working order, we’ll probably have to come back to the hotel. We might need more help yet.”

“We might,” Peggy agreed.  “We’ll give you a ring if we do.”  Another possibility occurred to her.  “And if we don’t, you did say I’m still alive in 2015.  You can come and visit me.  I’m sure I won’t forget you.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Toulouse said.  “I’ll do that, I promise.”

Howard held out his arms.  “What about me?  Do I get a hug?”

Toulouse went to give him one, but he took her around the waist and tipped her over for a good old-fashioned Hollywood kiss, and she threw her arms around his neck to reciprocate.  Peggy just sighed and turned her back to wait until they’d finished.

It was a long and dusty drive out to the Sierra bunker.  By the time they’d finished their renting, shopping, and kissing it was around ten o’clock in the morning.  At just past noon, they passed through Bakersfield, and stopped for what turned out to be a deeply disappointing attempt at Brazilian food.  After that they drove for another hour or so along Evans Road, to the edge of Sequoia National Forest.  The landscape looked exactly as Peggy remembered it, all scrubby bushes and rolling hills, with the California sun beating down on them.  She was glad their car was air conditioned – this same drive in 1948 had left Peggy sweating right through her clothes.

Occasionally they passed other traffic, but for the most part they were alone on the road and when they were, there was an odd sense of timelessness.  These hills had probably looked very much the same for seventy years or seventy thousand, and the road was the newest thing in them. They could be making this drive in 1948, 2015, or 1066, and out here it would hardly be possible to tell.

Howard checked the phone he’d bought.  “It’s a right turn up ahead, according to the GPS.” He pointed.

“Another toy?” asked Peggy.  Howard was having entirely too much fun with the phone, which doubled as a camera, among other things.  She didn’t doubt there was a way to make it blow up, and Howard would certainly find it.

“It’s not a toy,” said Howard.  “I wanted to know how it worked, so I ‘googled’ it.  There are thirty satellites in orbit, and they can tell you where you are anywhere in the world, exactly, down to the inch!”

“I don’t think I like the idea of being constantly watched from above,” Peggy said.

“That’s not the point.  It’s to keep you from getting lost,” said Howard.  “And there!  There’s the road, right where it said it would be!”

There was no sign to indicate a turnoff, but as they rounded the curve of the hillside, there it was: a dirt road leading away to the right, between two hills.  They followed that for another half a mile or so, and then came to a stop at a chain link gate.  There was a metal sign hung on it, with the word DANGER in white text on red, above the black on white: HAZARDOUS AREA – UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS KEEP OUT.  Peggy stopped the car, and climbed out for a closer look.

The actual metal door in the hillside had been replaced since 1948 – the new model was reinforced with some bars, and had a small window in it.  Even that, however, had clearly happened a long time ago.  The whole thing was covered with lichen and rust, and clearly hadn’t been touched in a very long time.

Or had it?  Peggy climbed over the fence and went up for a closer look.

The door did look rusty and mossy, but when she got closer Peggy realized that both afflictions were, for the most part, just artfully applied paint.  She touched it to be sure, and found metal that looked rough and flaky was actually smooth under her fingers.  That would need to be touched up regularly, so that it didn’t fade in the blazing sunshine. Somebody had been here very recently indeed.

Despite the sun on her back, Peggy suddenly felt very cold.

Howard came up behind her.  “Can you open…” he began, but she turned around and put a hand over his mouth.

“Hush,” she whispered.

He nodded, and Peggy let go of him and cupped her hands around her face on the little window, trying to see the inside. There was nothing but darkness. That could mean the place was empty, or it could just mean somebody had put heavy dark cloth behind the opening.

“Anybody there?” asked Howard.

“Not that I can see, but I know somebody’s been here recently,” Peggy said.  She looked up.  The hillside rose steeply above the bunker door, and from down here the top was invisible. If they climbed up there they might be able to find out more, but what they found out might involve HYDRA operatives waiting for them.  On the other hand, they certainly wouldn’t learn anything by just going back to the car and driving away.

She started up the slope.

It was not an easy climb.  The hillside was dry, gravelly soil, just barely held together by the tangle of coarse desert vegetation.  More than once, either Peggy or Howard nearly lost their footing and had to grab the other for support.  When they reached the top, the scrubby bushes came to a sudden end, and they found themselves standing on the edge of a circular open area, about fifty feet across. It was invisible from the road because of the steep slope – and invisible from the air because it was covered with camouflage netting.  Peggy lifted an edge of this, and found underneath was a dusty metal surface, slightly sunk below ground level, and painted beige to blend in with the soil.

“This wasn’t here in 1948,” said Peggy.  She was absolutely certain of that.

Howard looked at the open area, taking in its shape and dimensions.  “It’s a helipad,” was his analysis.

“Then there must be another door nearby,” Peggy decided.  “It’d be a pain in the arse to have to climb that hill every time they need to meet a helicopter.”

They began to search the bushes, tapping on the ground to listen for hollow places and getting their clothes caught on the branches and thorns.  One thicket caught the heel of Peggy’s left shoe and pulled it right off her foot, leaving her hopping on one leg as she turned around to try to find it.

That was when she heard a deep metallic sound somewhere beneath her, followed by a rumble that was not so much heard as it was felt in the bones.  A mechanism began to squeak as the camouflage netting was rolled away, and underneath it, the metal helipad began to sink into the earth.

The back of Peggy’s mind observed that this was how HYDRA avoided climbing that hill – rather than sending people up, they brought helicopters down. The front of her mind told her it was time to get the hell out of there.

She kicked off her other shoe, grabbed Howard’s hand, and the two of them began scrambling down the hill.  As soon as they could see the car, however, they realized it was already too late: the vehicle was surrounded by men in desert camouflage, carrying guns.  Peggy stumbled to a stop in her stocking feet and looked left and right, then pushed Howard to the left.  If they went between the helipad and the car, maybe they could escape.

But no, there were armed men coming down the hill now, too, and they would soon be right in the way.  Peggy chose one and charged him.  He didn’t have time to react, and she pushed the muzzle of his gun up, forcing him to fire into the air as she shoved him over.  She’d made an opening now.  They could get through – but then she put one of her stocking feet down on something shar, and stumbled.  The rest of the men took advantage of the moment to pile on top of her and force her to the ground.  Peggy got a mouthful of dirt, and her cheek and temple were ground into the stony soil as they handcuffed her.  Fools, she thought.  They must know she’d already gotten out of those once.

Once the cuffs were on, the men dragged Peggy to her feet, and she saw Howard also in cuffs, with his knees scraped and bleeding where he’d been forced to the ground.  A man patted both of them down and found the cellular phones they’d bought. He threw those into the bushes.

The men marched their prisoners down the treacherous slope, back in the direction of their rented car.  They arrived just in time to see the men who’d been waiting there now pushing the vehicle off the edge of the road.  It rolled down the slope into the valley, and crashed into a clump of gray pine trees twisted by drought.  

Meanwhile, a man had unlocked the gate and was now opening the door beyond.  Sharp pebbles cut into Peggy’s unshod feet as she was frog-marched inside.

She knew what she expected to see inside the bunker – a flight of metal steps leading down into a single large open area, where the time machine and cows had been in 1948.  The steps were there, though they were far too new to have been the same ones she remembered, but the rest of the space was utterly different.  The underground room had been substantially expanded, with pillars of bedrock left to support the roof and partitions set up between them to divide the extra space into offices.  A large open area remained in the middle, certainly big enough for the time machine, but there was nothing there now, not even a cow.  Boxes of documents and pieces of furniture or unidentifiable equipment were stacked up in the cubicle doorways, and a few men and women stood watching in silence as Peggy and Howard were escorted through.

They were leaving, Peggy thought.  This place had become too well-known since a photo of its entrance had appeared in the press.  Perhaps the time machine had used to be here, but they’d moved it, perhaps temporarily, to the empty hotel in London.

The men escorted Peggy and Howard past all that. At the end of the big room was a metal shutter that must lead in to where the helipad elevator came down – their captors turned right there, and led them down a hallway cut into the rock. This one had proper rooms in it, with walls and doors, though these were closed and there were no signs to indicate what was in them.  They stopped at the second door on the left, and one of the men knocked.

“Mr. Smith!” he called out.  He had an accent, Peggy noticed… possibly Yorkshire.

She felt her stomach flutter.  This time, they really were going to meet the mysterious Mr. Smith.  Would he be the Red Skull?  Everyone had assumed Johann Schmidt had died in the crash of the Valkyrie, but they’d never found the wreck or the bodies that would have been inside it.  He had been given something like super-soldier serum.  Could he possibly have survived?  No, because then Steve would have survived, too, and he would definitely have come back if he could…

“Come in!” said a voice from the other side of the door.  This one was American.

The men opened the office door, and escorted Peggy and Howard inside.

[the-canary]

Mausoleum - B.B (3/7)

Summary: Well, this was certainly one way to go about a museum date with your historical crush. (Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @jaamesbbarnes. welcome to me struggling to keep this 6 chapters, but we’ll see. also, reference to an old show somewhere >>;;

Part 1 | Part 2 

Everett Ross is a smart man and while once he would have fallen under all the pressure placed on him by his superiors and all who looked to him for the next step, he didn’t do so now -- years of experience in both war and diplomacy have cooled him down. But underneath the veneer of civility, Ross is still a man that trust his instinct most of the all, that gut that has saved him a million times before even if he might play it off as something else. However, like any normal person, Everett Ross has flaws as well.

A certain soft, in the name of friendship and their shared past, towards a former lieutenant is one of them. Ross knows that it was stupid and downright dangerous to send a semi-suicidal person and a potential suicide mission, but he knew you. During your time in the Air Force, you read up on any book you could find on the Howling Commandos, specially Bucky Barnes -- you carried them around like a safety net and when your time was up, you used your resources to get degree after degree in American Military History with a honed focus on WWII.

The two of you were slowly becoming leading experts in your respective fields, but while Ross had overcome in his own ways the horrors of the Gulf and other missions (certainly a lie on some days), you hadn’t. The scars still burned and you had dropped out of your programs and jobs more than once because of the nightmares they caused, but that didn’t stop you -- the museum in New York being the latest gig and Everett wanted to believe that.

But, this was also an opportunity that he couldn’t miss, especially with the Winter Soldier, and you were his ace in the hole. However, as he watches the little red symbol showing him your location in Europe flash and disappear on the screen all of a sudden, he can’t help but let out a frustrated groan -- unsure of what happens next.   

He just hopes, so unlike him, that he hasn’t killed you a second time.

It’s simple questions, he never talks more than necessary. Who are you? Who are you working for? What are the exacts details of your mission?

A long time ago, you would have fought tooth and nail to not give the answers to those questions, you would die before they knew what rattled in your head. However, now all that your head safeguarded was nightmares and regrets and you gladly hand them over to Bucky Barnes with those dark blue eyes and guarded expression. A haunted version of himself that you had idealized back as a teen, but after the Winter Soldier incident and looking at him now, he reminded you of Monty Clift after the car crash, barely hanging in there. He keeps asking, and you keep answering everything with completely honestly -- Ross would surely hate you.

“Air Force? What position?” his voice is rusty and breaks near the end once more, as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. Look normal, like a wandering and dirty American couple simply playing tourists and snuggling in to each other while eating.   

“Yes, first lieutenant,” you smile bitterly behind your tea cup. Your eyes flicker between looking at his gloved hands and the dirty brown hair hiding his face, so completely different from the pictures and engravings that you had seen over the years. It’s shattering to see your idol like this, but at the same time you can’t blame him.

“How long?” he questions, glancing around the cafe to see who might be watching the two of you and memorizing all the exits for the 4th time, it eases him just a little to know he could escape at a moment’s notice.

“A couple of months,” you answer, as Bucky takes mental note of where he could have gone wrong that he could have been tracked down, knowing that he won’t make the same mistakes again -- not like this was any better though, “Since Scotland.”

“And you?”

“Search, nothing more than that,” you shrug, rolling your shoulder back in momentary pain, “Though, I was honestly expecting a fight.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” he says so softly that your heart breaks, as he wringes his two gloved hands together.

“I see that now, and I am sorry for expecting the worst,” you lament, as blue eyes widen by only a fraction at your declaration, making him wonder how long it had been since he had heard such words, wondering how they could be given so easily, and whether he even deserved them. However, in a quick second, he shakes all those thoughts away.

“Go home,” is all he says, as he begins to get up. Putting some change together to leave on the table before hanging his backpack on his shoulders once more.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” you manage to answer back, before blue eyes turn to look at you, resolute in getting his words across, in having a say in what happens in his own life after so many years of being the first of HYDRA against his will.

“Don’t follow me,” is all he says before disappearing through the crowd, as you frown.

Bucky Barnes knows that you are connected some powerful people, maybe not HYDRA but someone else looking to bring him in and he knows the moment that something happened to you -- they were going to come after him first. And while blue eyes linger at the person he has actually had a long conversation with in more than 70 years, self-preservation got the better of him as he disappeared into the Belgium streets.  

You’re short on time, knowing that with his location known, Bucky Barnes would mostly like be out of Antwerp by the end of the day, if not the hour so instead of going back to your shady hotel room -- you move forward. You decide to go into the shopping district, trying to best to get some travel gear and a decent set of clothes. Your phone has stop pinging, no sign of Bucky, but with your limited knowledge of where he is going and how to get into said country, you head to the closest train station. You know that this is stupid idea, that you are essentially running from a mission given to you by Ross (but not really) in order to follow an former assassin that could have you (but wouldn’t) disappear without a trace. This is all so ridiculous, but taking a deep breath and heading towards the ticket station and getting on the one that moved through the Belgium-France border.

“It leaves in a few minutes,” the station attendant manages to tell you and you’re off, running to catch an unsure train that might or might not be carrying Bucky Barnes to his next destination. There are too many uncertainties right now that a past version of yourself would be angered by the lack of control in your hands, but for now...you were okay with that, and that was saying a lot.

You sat down near the back,  as you tried to stay calm for the moment but you couldn’t stop the rush of adrenaline at the flash of blue a few seats away, though you weren’t going to get up just because of one little incident. You were going to be on the train for a few hours, so you could scope everything out later. Fpr now, you took a deep breathe and settled in.   

“Rett’s gonna freak out,” you giggle a bit, before cuddling your new backpack closer and watching as the train slowly starts to makes its way out of the station.

You were alive and you were going to be fine (maybe), even if that mean playing Ishmael for awhile.

Part 4

[awesomemarvelfanficsblog-blog]

Sick (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: The mighty Bucky Barnes is sick. And he wants you to take care of him.

Warnings: *in Captain America voice* Language! And some suggestive material.

You have just finished an intense sparring workout with Steve when suddenly, the Friends theme song starts blasting from your phone. Really loud. You and Steve both jump, then laugh when you realize what has happened. Steve adorably begins to sing and clap along, even dancing a little. It tickles you to see the six-foot-three, muscular, sweaty, usually reserved man let loose. You’re laughing so hard you don’t even realize the person attempting to call you is Bucky.

You gasp when you saw the name on the screen. “He never calls me. He’s probably dying or something!”

“Either that or he wants to get some.” Steve teases. You roll your eyes at Steve as you pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N.” Bucky’s voice sounds froggy and clogged.

“Uh, you good, Buck?” You ask, your concern growing.

“Nobe. I’b sick.” You laugh out loud when you hear his voice. “Don’t laugh ad be!” Bucky pouts.

“Sorry, you just sound hilarious.” You say unapologetically, trying to stop the laughter. “Why are you telling me?”

“I want you to come.”

“Huh?” 

“Can you come to my room?” Bucky whimpers. He sounds so pathetic that you clamp your hands over your mouth to shut in the laughs. Bucky Barnes is an ex-HYDRA assassin, but the man becomes a child when he gets sick. Even so, why did he call me? You wonder.

“Why me?”

“Because I want you.” Bucky insists like a stubborn child. You groan loudly.

“You are impossible Barnes. Fine, I’m coming.” You tell Bucky, hanging up on him before he could reply. You offer a quick explanation to Steve, who merely quirks an eyebrow teasingly. 

As you leave, you hear Steve say, “JARVIS, play ‘I’ll Be There For You.’”

                                                          *****

You take the elevator to Bucky’s floor. It seems deserted, the lights are off and it doesn’t even look like he came out of his room today. You knock once on Bucky’s door and let yourself in. He’s lying in his bed, shirtless. Tissues litter the covers as well as the floor. Basically everywhere but the trash can is covered with used tissues. You sigh.

“I was going to ask how you were feeling but I think the current state of your bedroom answers that question.”

“Te dracu.” He grunts. Sometimes when Bucky is really tired or angry, he’ll revert to his old, HYDRA-induced habit of speaking in Romanian. Your Romanian is a bit rusty, but you know exactly what he said. After all, who would forget how to say “fuck you” in a different language?

“Someone’s grumpy. Should I leave?” You ask him sarcastically. He mutters “no” under his breath. “Didn’t think so. I brought soup and cough drops.” You rustle through the grocery bag you brought. “What do you want?” Slowly, painstakingly, Bucky turns himself onto his back to look at you. You stop yourself from making a disgusted noise. The man looks awful. He’s shining with sweat, he has dark circles under his puffy eyes, his nose in rubbed raw and red, and his entire face is flushed. You manage to say, “Wow. You look terrible.”

“Thanks. You look a little tired yourself.” He mumbles, smiling a little.

“No, I’m just ugly.” You laugh. “Bullshit.” Bucky calls out to you, making you laugh harder. You heat up the soup on the stove and bring it to him, spoon in hand. Bucky starts to pout. “I don’t want soup.” His voice is a little scratchy. You touch his forehead with your fingers. His head is burning, but he’s shivering violently under the covers.

“I don’t care. You’re eating the soup.” You say firmly, ignoring him when he tries to argue. “Barnes, you asked me here, now you do what I say.” Even though he complains and whines the whole time, you manage to force-feed Bucky the soup.

“God, that was good.” Bucky says once he eats the whole jar. His voice sounds smoother and his head seems to have calmed down a little.

“Told you. Why you gotta be so damn stubborn?” You tease him.

“Stubborn?” Bucky cough-laughs. “Y/N, you’re the queen of stubbornness. Remember that time you got pneumonia because Tony bet you that you couldn’t swim in the pool during that snowstorm?” You turn away from him.

“Touche.” You laugh. You give him three more boxes of tissues, one more jar of soup, and two bags of cough drops. “Get some sleep, ghost story. Anything else before I go?” He laughs a little at the nickname that you give him.

“I’m freezing. Can you hand me another blanket?” Bucky asks quietly, his voice stuttering due to how cold he is. You smile and toss another blanket onto his bed. He continues to shiver, the whole bed shakes under his weight. You search for more blankets, but you can’t find any.

“You okay?” You ask softly, concern in your voice for the first time. His teeth are chattering so much, he can’t even get a word out. “Okay. You’ve left me no choice, Barnes.” Leaning over the bed, you peel off the three layers of blankets, climbing into the bed with him. Bucky says nothing, his eyes just get bigger. The bed is really hot, you can almost see the layer of sweat appearing instantly on your body. Damn. How the hell is this man still cold? You wonder. However, you decide not to say anything. You slip into the bed smoothly and snuggle up to Bucky. He lets out a low sigh of comfort, his arms wrapping around you involuntarily. As his hands graze your waist, you let out a little yelp.

“Damn, you are freezing!” You cry, making him laugh.

“Yeah, but now I’m not.” He breathes against your neck. “You’re really hot.”

“I’ve always been a warm person.” You joke.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Huh?”

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Bucky whispers, his hands starting to trail lower. Your face starts to heat up, your heart beating faster. You stare at him for a few seconds, eyes wide in shock. Huh? Is this happening?

“You’re delirious.” You say finally, turning away from him.

Bucky moves closer to your body, craving your heat. “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice is tired, but earnest.

You refuse to let yourself hope. “Go to sleep. It’s your fever talking.” You tell him shortly, trying not to think about how his hands are all over you.

“It is not!” Bucky’s voice raises to a whine.

“Go to sleep.” You close your eyes. Bucky’s arms tighten protectively around you, drawing you closer to him.

“But I love you.” He says, his voice softening. Whoa. You turn to look at him. The look on Bucky’s face is so sweet it melts your heart. He’s looking at you with such awe, such adoration, such dreaminess in his eyes that for a second, he does make you believe that he loves you. Then you realize that he is probably delirious and that he’s not himself. Your heart drops, but you don’t want to make him sad, so you decide to play along.

“I know, I know.” You pat his chest reassuringly, putting on your best mom voice. “I know you do, honey.” You pause for a second. “And I love you too.”Bucky beams at you. After a few seconds, you rest your head on his bare chest, closing your eyes. Bucky’s arms encircle your stomach, his fingers playing with your shirt. You’re drifting off to sleep when you feel him press his lips against the side of your head. You resist the urge to smile. 

******

“Y/N.” Bucky’s morning voice catches your attention the next day. You’re in the kitchen of his floor, making him some more soup.

“Oh hi, sleepyhead.” You smile, walking over to him. You place your fingers on his forehead, which seems a lot cooler than it was yesterday. “Glad to see you’re up and about.”

“Y/N.” The tone in his voice is serious.

“What?” He walks up and stands very close to you, only about a foot away from you.

His questions surprises you. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Your face gets hotter. “Uhmm..w-why...”

“Because I straight-up told you that I loved you last night.” Bucky sounds grumpy and annoyed. You laugh nervously.

“Oh, that was real? I thought you were just delirious.” The words sound even more terrible once you said them.

“Nope, definitely for real.” Bucky says gruffly. An awkward silence hangs in the air. Then you tentatively reach out and hook your arms around his neck.

“Well, what are we waiting for, Sergeant?” You ask cheekily, tightening your hold on him. Bucky smirks as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. You run your fingers through his silky hair as his hands cup your jaw. Suddenly, a loud scream scares you both and you jump apart, embarrassed.

“HAIOOOOOO! HAND OVER YOUR MONEY, ROGERS!” Tony Stark hollers victoriously, holding his hand out to Steve expectantly.

“Goddammit, Bucky, Y/N.” Steve chuckles good-naturedly. You cover your red face with your hands until Bucky takes them in his.

“Ignore them. Want to take it to my room?” He’s got a sinful smirk on his face.

You smile and run your hands up his chest. “I’d like nothing better, Barnes.”

[hellomissmabel]

The Red Queen (3/3)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Nat x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: Major plot twist. Violence. Mentions of rape (please don’t read if this is not your cup of tea!) and sexual activity (if you look real close). Two girls kissing each other (idk if this shoud be a warning or not really).

Word count: 2.300

Summary: A small yet skilled art thief is drawn to the French Riviera to settle a score, only to be met with the surprise of a lifetime.

The prompt: The reader can erase memories, or so she thinks. In reality, she merely misplaces them. But those misplaced memories have to go somewhere, the only question is, where?

A/N: This is a mini series I’ve written while on the road. It’s not an AU (surprise surprise!) and I feel like I’m a bit rusty writing something else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it @jurassicbarnes <3

Thank you Google Translate for the Russian translations.

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

“Will it hurt?”

You brush away a strand of brown hair that has fallen in front of his baby blues, shaking your head with a small smile. “You won’t feel a thing, Bucky.”

He looks a little more assured and nods, indicating he’s ready. “Okay,” Bucky exhales slowly, taking your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “Let’s do this, doll.”

It’s been a hectic 9 weeks, practising with Wanda to get your powers under control and walking on tiptoes whenever you’re around Natasha. She’s still very sceptic, very wary in your presence but this last week she’s been warming up more. Perhaps she’s finally accepted you’re the only one that can help Bucky. Or maybe she’s been keeping her distance for another, more personal reason.

It hasn’t escaped Natasha’s attention that there are quite a few similarities between the two of you. The same posture, the same jawline, the same right hook. Sure, she’s harder and tougher than you, because her skill comes from a much darker place, and her body undoubtedly has a much better physique thanks to the hands-on training schedule she upholds here at the compound.

But if they were to give you a wig and some contacts, few would notice the difference and it both frightens and turns her on. Because yes, she is attracted to you and has been since she first laid eyes on you.

Natasha watches you intently, joining the other Avengers behind the glass. Only you and Wanda are allowed inside, together with Bucky. Wanda has complete faith in your ability to give Bucky back his mind and ultimately, his life. And this faith extends to Bucky, too, with whom you’ve worked intensively for a little over 6 weeks.

“Remember that I trust you, Y/N,” he whispers softly as he brings your knuckles to his lips.

Steve can see Natasha stiffen from the corner of his eye as Sam rolls his eyes a little too dramatically. Of course Sam knew, he has an eye for these things, and Steve has always suspected there could’ve been something more going on between you and Bucky. But that it has escaped Natasha’s attention… He finds that very hard to believe, even though her reaction speaks of a different story.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Bucky releases your hands. “You won’t feel a thing,” you assure him again as you cup his face. “In fact, you will feel absolutely nothing at all. No pain, no physical stimulation at all. No emotions either. It’ll be quick and the only thing you might experience is a slight sting as he enter and leave your mind.”

It’s nothing new, you’ve gone over this a million times already. But it calms Bucky’s nerves to more you repeat those words to him. “Close your eyes, Bucky,” you tell him kindly before pressing your lips to his forehead and entering his mind.

It doesn’t take you long to find the trigger words, embedded deep in the essence of his mind. Word for word you wipe it all out. First the trigger words, then the memories of all the people he hurt and killed. Eventually you move further and erase the entire existence of Hydra in his mind.

“Think of me when you look at the moon at night,” you mumble to his skin as you kiss his forehead again. “Remember that I could’ve loved you.”

Taking a step back, you watch him open his eyes again. His bright smile reveals that he didn’t hear anything of what you said to him, and maybe it’s for the best.

“How do you feel?,” Wanda inquires carefully as she comes to stand next to you.

“I – I’m not sure,” Bucky speaks quietly, his eyes going back and forth between you and Wanda. “Did it work?”

“Yes, it worked, Bucky,” you confirm in an equally soft voice. He reaches for your hand but you don’t let him take it, his fingers barely brushing yours as his hand falls limp on his knee.

Wanda coughs loudly and gives you a little pat on your shoulder. “Good job, Y/N. I knew you had it in you. I’ll give you two a minute before I tell the others they can come in.”

Smiling gratefully at the witch, your eyes follow her until she has left the room. Afraid to look at Bucky, you fixate on the floor instead. With his fingertip, he carefully lifts up your chin and tells you to look at him.

“What’s wrong?,” he asks as he searches your eyes for the answer.

“We have ten minutes left.”

His eyes speak of confusion before his features even out and return to the stone-like expression he carried when you first met. “You’re leaving. Today?”

“Natasha…,” you try to reason with him, trying to make him understand. “I got the feeling she didn’t want me around anymore and I don’t want to cross her, so I made arrangements…”

Bucky stands up and moves away from you. “Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles under his breath, turning the doorknob.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper eventually, even though he has already left the room. If only you could confide in him about everything.

You’re waiting at the helicopter site, watching the starry night sky while thinking of Bucky. Yet soon your peaceful retreat is clouded by another presence, invading the silent cocoon you’ve created for yourself.

“I didn’t think you’d be leaving so soon,” she speaks in a hushed tone, afraid she’ll startle you. “I didn’t mean to scare you away.”

There’s a certain vulnerability to her words and it surprises you. She has lowered her guard, the infamous Black Widow is showing her kinder side to you and you can clearly sense it feels foreign to her to do so.

“You didn’t scare me away, Natasha,” you reply gently, finally locking eyes with the redhead. She smiles at you, a true and genuine smile. “I just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression, Y/N. I – I do like you,” she tells me honestly. “I just – I still don’t quite understand.”

A mild breeze blows through her faint red curls when you turn your body to face her properly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand either.”

Taking a step closer, you brush away a stray curl like you did with Bucky, only with different intent. You instantly notice when she pulls up her walls again, flinching just an inch when the tip of your finger touches her cheek.

“You said you liked me?,” you ask her when you take another step towards her. “In what way, Nat?”

Giving the redhead no time to assess the situation, you slowly press your lips to hers, kissing her tentatively. You know, you’ve always known the assassin had a thing for you. From the moment you started training with Wanda and you caught her staring at you when she thought you were too concentrated you wouldn’t notice.

And the morning after you left Bucky’s sheets, when you heard her trash around things in her room, only further confirmed your suspicions. She is not one to easily show her emotions, but to you she is an open book. After all, you two are linked and for a very good reason, just not the one you’d expect.

As soon as she starts to give more of herself into the kiss, parting her lips so the tip of your tongue can fall in line with hers, you reach behind you and underneath your shirt. Your hands immediately find the double-edged blade you’ve kept concealed on your back.

Briefly, your mind wanders into hers and you erase all traces of you from her memory, breaking the link you’ve established between the two of you. She might not remember but your paths have crossed before, a long time ago when you were wandering the streets of Bucharest, shadowing Natasha during her pursuit for the Winter Soldier. All it took was one bump with your shoulder and the link had been established.

Afterwards, you gingerly slide the knife away from its hiding place and without further ado strike Natasha right in her chest cavity, in the space just underneath her heart. Her mouth falls open as she receives the first blow, pupils blown wide in both surprise and an emotion you can only describe as somewhere between hurt and hatred. Natasha falls to the floor and as you hover over her, you speak in perfect Russian.

“красная королева посылает ей привет.” (the red queen sends her regards)

With broken, laboured breaths she heaves out a string of insults and profanities. “почему ты это делаешь?” (why are you doing this?)

Crawling backwards on the floor, leaving behind a trail of deep crimson blood, Natasha tries to make her escape. She has some fight left in her but after your betrayal, she isn’t sure if she wants to fight back anymore.

“Y/N…,” she pleads with you, her spirit crushing a second time as you stab her again and she cries out in agony.

“The man who saved me from being swallowed by the sea,” you give her another jab to her side, “He worked for the same people who trained you.” Stab. “They raped me first.” Stab. “To make me obedient.”

The knife sinks deep into her skin and she has to bite her tongue not to scream. Nobody will hear her anyway, all too busy raising their glasses to Bucky’s recovery a couple floors down. Her eyes turn glassier the more blood she loses, the more violent your attack becomes.

“Then they started their experiments, making me their freak. And after their experiments had proven to be successful, they started to operate on me. I know you noticed the similarities long before I did.”

“Why me?,” the redhead whispers faintly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I asked myself the same question over and over again. Why me?,” you mimic in her feeble voice. “Because we have the same body type? Maybe. Possibly.”

“Why?,” she repeats softly, already losing consciousness faster than anticipated.

“Because what happens in the red room, stays in the red room. And you didn’t follow your orders, Natasha Romanoff. So you see, they needed someone to tie up some loose ends. And when I washed up on shore like a perfect little present, all that was missing was some gift-wrapping to make it complete.”

Kneeling next to Natasha, your jeans stained by her blood, you grip her hair tightly in the same fashion she gripped yours when she rammed your face into the steering wheel. You bittersweet irony makes you grin wickedly in anticipation of the kill.

“They created me in your image, Nattie, and called me the red queen.”

Holding the knife to her throat, you violently turn her head to you when she threatens the pass out. “If I finish you off, I get my freedom back. But don’t worry about your friends…,” you coo softly into her ear, “By the end of the party nobody will remember you. It will be like you never even existed, bitch.”

“No,” she resists weakly, coughing up blood. “You won’t succeed.”

Smirking darkly at the blind faith she puts in her friends, you press the knife closer to her neck. “Goodbye, Natasha.” The first cut draws a sliver of warm blood, the drops running down her cleavage and onto your hand. “Take one last look at the new Black Widow.”

You have every intention of slicing her throat right there and then, but something in her eyes slows you down. It’s not an emotion, soaring in the space between hurt and hatred. It’s not love nor anger, but pure and unadulterated acceptance. She has accepted that this is her end and you must admit it graces her.

This, however, is your fatal mistake. In those few seconds you remove the pressure of the knife, too caught up in your thoughts, Natasha kicks up her head and it collides with yours. With a strangled cry you stumble back and fall from your knees onto your back, but you quickly recover and jump back to your feet. Unfortunately, this leaves Natasha with enough leeway to grab the knife that has clattered to the ground and twist it into your heart.

“меня никто не заменяет (nobody replaces me),” she hisses lowly as she presses the knife further into your heart, putting all her remaining strength into it. “ты мне нравилась.” (I liked you)

Natasha groans when you claw at her, you nails leaving red marks on her arms. “И я мог бы полюбить тебя, моя дорогая.” (And I could’ve loved you, my dear)

You can’t reply, any and all witty comebacks drawn from your lips as the air is knocked out of your lungs. She must’ve read your lips as you whispered those exact same words to Bucky. The only thing you can croak out is “fuck you”.

It is only when your dead body slumps to the cold floor, she releases the strained sobs she’s been holding in through this entire ordeal. Through the tears she searches for the phone that dropped out of your pocket, scanning the numbers for Bucky’s.

In bits and pieces, she cries into the phone. “Bucky… Y/N… she was a spy… sent to kill me…”

Through the cracking of the phone, she can hear the crowd go silent and she knows they’re all listening in. As she’s trying to stop the bleeding, having teared off a piece of fabric from her clothes, Bucky’s concern fills her hazy mind.

He asks her where she is, her voice ebbing away as she tries to reply. He tells her to stay with him, that help is on the way, but she fails to reply as everything goes dark, Bucky’s voice screaming into her ear.

Epilogue

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @myserium @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @jurassicbarnes @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean67

[james-bionic-barnes]

You’re the Reason I Come Home (Part 1/2)

Summary: You and Bucky have been through a lot together. But when things become too much and Bucky breaks up with you, you find that you could lose him completely. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6,005 (WHOOPS)

Warnings: Language, some violence, mention of killings/death, & ANGST (the angst train gets worse in the next one). 

A/N: Well, I’m back from my writing hiatus now it would seem! It’s been a long time, so I’m probably rusty at this, and I’m still super nervous to post this. This part is more backstory than anything, but I still enjoyed writing it a lot. Hope you all like it too!!!

Now:          

         You are in love with James Buchanan Barnes. You are determined to tell him just that, to march up to him and force him to listen to you, to make him realize he was being an idiot and to make him come back to you. You don’t want to go through life without him – you can’t. He needs to know that – you need to tell him that. You refuse to believe that it’s too late, that you’re going to lose him forever. It is not a reality that you can accept.

         Your phone begins to ring, and your heart drops.

 Then:

         When you first met Bucky the day he and Steve flew back from Wakanda, he barely glanced at you – in fact, he barely glanced at anything else besides his scuffed combat boots and the floor. You didn’t blame him for being that way, of course – from being a prisoner of war and the world’s most wanted fugitive for decades to undergoing several extensive mental and physical tests to clear out multiple decades worth of HYDRA’s brainwashing… anyone weaker in his situation would have broken. But James Buchanan Barnes did not break.

         That didn’t surprise you, however. You, perhaps more than anyone, knew more about what Bucky had been through during testing, as Steve sent you almost daily updates on what was happening – you were one of his best friends, after all. Steve came to you when there was a particularly rough day, when Bucky’s progress became regression, or even if Steve just needed someone to listen to him, to let him take off the pressure of being the level-headed captain, to just be the kid from Brooklyn for a while.

         Every time Bucky had any partial improvement in his overall health or treatment, you’d hear about it. Honestly, it made you happy – Bucky truly deserved it. He had fought a personal war for his freedom, for his peace, for far too long. For that, you almost idolized him. Well, you practically idolized everyone you worked with – it’s just what happens when you see all the ass-kicking up close, and your life is saved multiple times by your best friends. They were heroes in all sense of the word, but Bucky was particularly inspiring to you.

         So you decided that when you met him again, you’d tell him exactly that.

         You knew that Bucky had frequent tests in the med lab to monitor his progress after his return from Wakanda, so you went down there to see if you could talk to him after, as no one else besides Bruce and Steve were allowed inside of the room during testing, not even other doctors or nurses. It was a safety protocol for everyone – Steve would subdue Bucky while Bruce locked down the lab. The two of them would then inject Bucky with a strong sedative to knock him out. It took practically an elephant tranquilizer to knock him out, what with his enhanced system and body – he wouldn’t be a super soldier and assassin if a little tranquilizer stopped him.

         You were standing outside the lab, waiting for the tests to finish so you could go inside. It was mostly quiet as you were waiting – the labs were good at blocking noise. Besides a few words here and there, you heard practically nothing.

         That is until you heard everything. Shouting, crashing, the sound of glass breaking. Immediately, you looked through the window closest to you, seeing Steve dodging Bucky’s punches and kicks. Clearly this was no longer Bucky, but the Winter Soldier. There was also no sign of Bruce, which wasn’t a good thing at all.

         You watched as the safety shutters began closing over the windows and all the entrance doors from the small labs that branched into the main one, trapping the three men inside the main room. Before the last panel shut over the door, you jumped inside. It wasn’t like you were just going to stand there idly while two of your friends fought an incredibly dangerous fighter, even if the fighter was a good man.

         Steve was now slowly backing up against the wall, still dodging Bucky’s hits. There were a few that had made some contact in the time it took you to take in your surroundings – you noticed a few cuts and scrapes on Steve already.

         “Y/N?” Steve shouted as he ducked to avoid a kick to the head. “What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!”

         Even though this was a very bad situation, you had to take the time to roll your eyes in response to that one – the lab was locked down with titanium shutters, for crying out loud. A non-super-soldier can’t break through that even on their best day, which clearly, this was not one of yours.

         “I’m here to help you,” you answered, looking around for Bruce. Eventually, you heard pounding on one of the windows near you. You ran over to it, hearing Bruce’s voice coming from the other side, although rather muffled.

         “The sedative!” he shouted, clearly trying to keep his words concise.

         “Where?”

         “Cabinet! Green syringe!”

         You ran over to the one cabinet still standing, and had just started opening the door when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.

         You dodged the hit just in time – the blow that was meant for your head hit the cabinet instead, sending glass flying everywhere and even the entire thing to knock down. You moved aside to avoid both Bucky’s continuing blows and the falling cabinet.

         Quickly scanning the room for Steve, you found him on the ground surrounded by random tools – clearly, he had been knocked into one of the toolboxes and was, for the moment anyway, incapacitated. That must be why Bucky was now targeting you instead of Steve. It looked like it was up to you to stop Bucky now.

         You looked up at him, just barely seeing his face from the curtain of dark brown hair that framed his face, falling into his eyes. He managed to land a hit to your abdomen with his flesh arm as you were preoccupied with dodging his left, and it knocked the wind out of you, allowing him to sweep your legs, sending you to the floor. He went down with you, his metal hand wrapping around your throat tightly as he kneeled on top of your legs, pinning you down.

         Your hands searched wildly for a weapon, and your hand brushed over broken glass and grabbed at multiple test tube containers, finding nothing that would work as a makeshift weapon and cutting your palm in the process. That was until you found the green syringe, laying untouched on the ground. You tried to focus your fading vision enough to make sure you wouldn’t miss the needle, and jabbed it into Bucky’s neck. Almost immediately, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his grip on your neck went limp. As did the rest of him, his body slumping on top of yours, further stopping you from breathing properly as he squished you.

         As you heard the safety shutters unlock and slide back up once it was safe, you tried in vain to push off Bucky – you barely budged him. “A-A little help, please.”

         Steve ran over, lifting Bucky up and off you, carrying him over to a gurney, setting him down and placing a clamp over his left arm, trapping him on the bed. Bruce came up to you next, helping you up and examining your minor scrapes quickly. When you told the two of them why you had been so close to the lab, Steve was happy to hear that you wanted to interact with Bucky more, as most were keeping their distance until they were sure he had leveled out.

         When Bucky came to, he surprised you by looking straight at you. He clearly seemed to recognize you as well as seemed to know what he had done, because he looked down in shame soon after. But you weren’t deterred or scared of him in the slightest – in fact, you even stepped up closer to him.

         “You know, you really should stop being so hard on yourself,” you told him suddenly, causing him to look up in confusion at you – clearly, he hadn’t expected you to speak to him, or at the very least he didn’t expect you to say that. “I mean that in the gentlest way possible, but seriously, give yourself some slack. Oh, and I’m Y/N.”

         As Bucky watched you turn on your heel and leave, he knew you were right – and that you were something special.

         It didn’t take long after that encounter for Bucky to reach out to you – just in ways where it didn’t involve him directly asking you. Steve had invited you to go on a walk early one morning, and when you got dressed and went outside, you found Bucky standing right next to Steve. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say that you weren’t excited to see him. You were even more excited to see him when he started to walk beside you, even though he could most certainly overtake you and walk as fast as Steve was. It took him a few minutes, but eventually the two of you started to make small talk. Things like that began to occur often, but you didn’t mind Bucky finding ways to hang out with you. Each time the two of you would talk, getting to know one another, Bucky would open up more and more as he got comfortable with you. Sure, he had warmed up to the others by then, but not as much as he had with you. You found yourself being just as comfortable with him, and you quickly began to realize how it was a different type of comfort. When you were around Steve and Wanda, you felt like you belonged next to them, as though having their friendship was a key part of you. But Bucky… Bucky was different. He was like an anchor to you – still an important part of you, yes, but one that did more than Steve and Wanda. Bucky kept you secure. When you were with him, you felt like home. Before you knew it, you were falling for him fast.

         Obviously, you had to keep all this to yourself, as you couldn’t jeopardize your friendship with Bucky over your feelings that he probably didn’t return. According to some, however, that wasn’t the case.

         “Now’s your opportunity,” Wanda had said, elbowing you slightly. You recoiled away from her, glancing to where she was looking at – or more accurately, at whom she was looking at, which was none other than Bucky. He was walking beside Steve out of the briefing room, no doubt discussing mission plans still. They were just about to leave for a two-day long mission to gain intel, and you couldn’t lie to yourself and say that you weren’t going to be worried about Bucky, or that you wouldn’t miss seeing him, even if it was only for two days. Over the past few months you had obviously grown attached, but missions always brought worry with the loneliness, a time you didn’t look forward to.

         You rolled your eyes. “Wanda, enough. You know it’s a lost cause – he doesn’t like me back. We’re friends, that’s all, and that’s okay.”

         “Sure, but when you have the option to be more than that, and both of you want to be more, you’d be stupid not to go for it. But you know, don’t trust your friend who can read minds,” Wanda said sarcastically. As always, she was strongly advocating the idea of you confessing your feelings to Bucky, but as always, you were not going to risk it. Telling Bucky of your romantic feelings was not worth the risks – what if he laughed in your face, or worse, left you completely? You couldn’t handle that – you cared about him too much to lose his friendship over your feelings.

         Bucky’s eyes locked with yours, and he smiled that damn brilliant smile of his before stepping up to you near the quinjet. Wanda took the opportunity to make herself scarce, causing you to almost wish she hadn’t. If she was still here, you wouldn’t be alone with Bucky. Or, more specifically, you wouldn’t be able to just tell Bucky your true feelings, as no one was around to hear and make it a non-private conversation.

         “Hey, doll,” Bucky greeted you as he walked up to you. Or more likely sauntered up to you, showing off his newfound confidence and dominance to a degree. Bucky had come far in how he viewed himself, and you were extremely proud of him. Unfortunately for you, it meant him acting on his assets a bit more, like wearing tank tops or lifting incredibly heavy objects with ease, or perhaps his worst offense – not wearing a damn shirt. You’d lost track of times you’d shuffle into the kitchen, sleep-deprived from your previous mission, and would be startled awake as you bumped into a shirtless Bucky. You swore it was like bumping into a brick wall – a very warm, very muscular, extremely hot brick wall.

         “Hi,” you responded, and you hated how quiet your voice was – you just didn’t want to tell him your feelings, but apparently your voice decided that you wouldn’t just speak to him much at all.

         As you expected, Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s wrong? Is something up?” he asked. He had easily gained the ability to read you like an open book – he knew when something was bothering you, when you were sad or angry or any bit off than your normal self. It was an ability he had that you both loved and hated.

         You shook your head, rubbing the back of your neck. “N-No, I’m fine.”

         He raised an eyebrow in response, waiting. He knew you were going to tell him eventually, that it was just a matter of letting you gather the words first, or gathering the courage.

         “I-I’m worried about this mission,” you admitted. “I know I’m not one to be paranoid, but—”

         “No, you’re not,” Bucky interjected. “So when I get back I expect my Y/N to be back.”

         You raised an eyebrow, opening your mouth to respond. Before you could, however, Bucky leaned in, kissing your cheek before stepping back.

         “When I get back, and if you’re willing, be ready for dinner and a movie,” he told you as you managed a minute, shocked nod, walking backwards for a bit before heading up the quinjet ramp, turning back to salute you before the ramp closed. “See you soon for our date, doll.”

         The only reason you didn’t stay rooted in the spot you were in was because you needed to move so they could take off. You did have to pick your jaw up off the floor first, however.

         Waiting those two days was perhaps the longest wait you’ve had to endure in a while, just because of what had happened previously. The day Bucky and Steve were supposed to get back, Wanda kept preparing you for the date, rummaging through your closet multiple times and even offering to do your hair. You were going to go on a date. With none other than your best friend. With Bucky. You didn’t think your heart could handle it.

         Time kept passing, however, and soon it was 8 p.m. It was then your phone buzzed, and your heart jumped a bit when you saw it was Bucky.

         Hey doll, we got delayed. I won’t be back until late tonight, aka the butt crack of dawn. Hopefully you don’t hate me for ditching you for our date.

         You shook your head, smiling fondly as you typed out a reply.

         I forgive you, just as long as you’re not with another girl. :P

         Too late. I’ve been with a gal named Bertha this entire time. Hate to break it to you, doll, but we’ve gone everywhere together.

         You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s joke – Bertha was the name of the quinjet used for some of the missions. Bucky sent another message soon after.

         I’ll make it up to you when I get back. You know, when it’s an actual human hour. Not many people go on dates at four in the morning.

         Smiling softly, you shook your head, typing out a reply.

         You can make it up to me by coming home safe, you idiot. I’ll see you soon.

         Anything for you, doll. ❤

         After scrolling through the TV channels to see if there was anything worth staying up to watch, you curled up underneath the pile of blankets you had created for yourself, too lazy to get up to go to your room. Eventually, you dozed off, letting the TV play quietly in the background for some background noise.

         You weren’t sure how many hours had passed when you were woken up to feeling someone slide their arms underneath you – or more specifically, someone with a metal arm picking you up. Opening your eyes, you looked up at what little you could see of Bucky’s face in the dim lighting, blinking away the sleepiness that remained so you could greet him properly.

         “What are you doing on the couch, doofus?” he asked, and you could almost hear the smirk he had every time you did something he found weird or funny on his face.

         You shrugged, patting his arm. “I didn’t feel like moving, and you and the others were coming home anyway. Now put me down, I’m fine here.”

         Bucky sighed, clearly disagreeing with your statement, but set you back down on the couch anyway. He turned to the TV, glancing at the documentary on the screen before turning to you.

         “Really? A documentary about how ballpoint pens influenced politics?” Bucky asked, confusion clear in his voice. You rolled your eyes, knowing he could see you better in the dim lighting, grabbing the TV remote and tossing it to him.

         “I just played the TV in the background so I could fall asleep. It’s not like this is supposed to be fascinating or anything. Besides, aren’t you exhausted? Or jet-lagged?” you asked.

         You heard Bucky messing with the buckles on his tac gear, and you were wondering why he was undressing now when he flopped down onto the couch beside you, extending his legs out onto the coffee table, turning up the volume on the documentary.

         “Well, I need to reset my sleep schedule, and you’re stubborn. Besides, I missed our date,” Bucky answered simply.

         You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, but you were sure you failed. Besides, Bucky could read you easily, and you were almost sure he knew since he lifted his arm, extending it behind you on the top of the couch, making you smile even more.

         The two of you laughed as the documentary tried to explain how the different types of pens had an influence in which president was elected or which bills were passed. You lost your shit when glittery gel pens were brought up for a “domestic example.”

         “I’ve never seen those,” Bucky admitted. You shook your head, still laughing.

         “God, those were my favorite in school. Everyone had a set of them – I did all my schoolwork as a kid with those pens. They still make them, I might have to get a set for you. It’d be pretty funny to see you signing paperwork for Steve with those,” you joke. You feel him chuckle beside you, and you shiver slightly, tucking yourself further into your blanket burrito. Bucky turns to face you.

         “Are you still cold, doll?” he asked incredulously. You rolled your eyes – he knows that you get cold easily, that even if the room is one degree lower you feel colder.

         “Yes, now don’t judge me. I’m used to being in my bed with my five blankets, not just two.”

         Bucky laughed again, reaching over and pulling the blankets up over your shoulders, making sure all of you was covered before doing something that briefly stopped your heart – pulling you against him, almost into his lap. You blushed furiously, your pulse beginning to race wildly as you felt the hard planes of his chest and abdomen even through the layers of blankets. But then you felt his body heat, and you practically melted into him, snuggling against him without any shame. He was just so comforting.

         “You’re a little heat leech, I hope you know that,” he told you.

         Suppressing a yawn, you shook your head. “I prefer the term snuggle bug.”

         Bucky scoffed, and squeezed you a bit more tightly to his chest. He started telling you random stories about the mission, and you knew it was to get you to fall asleep. As much as you fought against it, it worked.

         When you woke up, you were expecting Bucky to be gone, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, you were still wrapped up in his arms, and to your surprise, he was fast asleep. Even though you had woken up and stirred, he hadn’t woken up yet, which was a miracle. Normally, you could blink and Bucky would be able to wake up. Apparently, however, that was not the case today.

         You managed to slip slowly out of his arms, heading over to the kitchen where you proceeded to make one of Bucky’s favorite breakfasts – a sausage and bacon omelet. That seemed to wake him up, as he shuffled into the kitchen, coming up beside you and placing a hand on your lower back. You had to stop yourself from jumping so you didn’t burn yourself or flip the omelet out of the pan.

         “Good morning. Or afternoon, I guess,” you said, seeing how the clock said it was already one in the afternoon. The two of you had apparently slept in later than normal.

         “That was the best I’ve slept in a while,” Bucky admitted. You smiled, bumping his arm lightly.

         And that was the first of many breakfasts and many movie nights together. Your second through fifth dates were the same as your first - whenever Bucky came back late from a mission, you’d wait for him on the couch and the two of you would snuggle and watch a movie or two, falling asleep together on the couch. Of course, you did other things too, but being with Bucky all alone, watching the sun rise through the window as you fell asleep next to him was incredible. You had almost four months of happiness with Bucky.

         As time progressed however, HYDRA activity continued to grow. So instead of going on a few field missions and staying back as a tech support or visual guide, you began training for actual combat. At first Bucky was your trainer, but he only taught you how to hit, not to defend yourself – he couldn’t bear to hit you, even if it was just lightly. So for defensive tactics, you went to Natasha. She taught you how to take down opponents twice your size, how to avoid and block hits, anything you needed to survive in a mission.

         Naturally, it took you a while to actually retain this training and be able to not land flat on your back each time you tried to attack your opponent, so you stayed home to train while the others kept going on missions. Whenever Bucky would leave, he would call you as often as possible, even if it was just to tell you that he loved you as he was waiting for a target to arrive at a destination, or something as small as saying that one of your socks had managed to find its way into his suitcase. Hearing his voice when he was gone was the main way you calmed down, how you stopped yourself from worrying too much. If you heard his voice, he was okay. It was a tradition, or perhaps what you would call a habit of both you and Bucky.

         Eventually, you had to put all that training to the test. You teamed up with Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Wanda on a mission. It was fairly simple – getting past security to access secret files. It was a smaller base, so it wasn’t as though enemies were present everywhere. Still, you felt Bucky’s eyes on you like a laser beam. You were sure his gaze only left you for a split second to make sure there were no distant or approaching threats.

         You were sure he almost had a heart attack watching you fight. In fact, you thought that you being on missions made him fight faster – if he took care of the enemies he was fighting quickly, he could come to you and fight the ones after you for you. You were grateful, of course, and sometimes there’d be occasions where he saved your ass multiple times from an unseen attacker or just one that happened to get a few too many hits on you.

         And then you noticed something.

         Each time you’d come home from a mission with Bucky, he’d be distant. Sure, he’d climb into bed with you, and kiss you goodnight, but that was it. There’d be little to no conversation, no jokes or movies like before. You hoped it was just his new way of recovering from the stress of the missions, but it kept happening. And it kept happening days after a mission had ended. Something was wrong, you knew it – but whenever you’d try to confront Bucky about it, he’d either say he was busy or say that he was fine.

         Then the night of the attack happened.

         You woke up one morning to Steve knocking on your door, calling everyone in to the briefing room. If you ever were called there, something bad had happened. You got dressed quickly, heading down to the briefing room. Bucky, as he had taken to doing, was already up – he would sometimes wake up as early as four in the morning. You guessed it was to avoid being alone with you, which made your heart sting. You just wanted to fix things, but he wasn’t letting you.

         When you walked into the briefing room, most everyone was already there. Of course, the two seats next to Bucky were occupied by Steve and Clint, so you settled for sitting across from him, next to Wanda. She gripped your hand reassuringly beneath the table – the benefit to having a friend who can read minds is that she can know when you’re feeling down.

         Steve came to a stand, taking in a deep breath as he turned on the screen, pulling up an image of a small town with broken buildings, with smoke and fire billowing out of some.

         “This town was attacked by a HYDRA base early this morning. We believe it’s because there’s a few of our allies that are set up there and have classified material. Since they didn’t give it up willingly, HYDRA attacked the town and captured Evan Reed, a renowned scientist. This is a hostage situation – HYDRA wants the classified material, and they’re willing to kill Reed to get it. We need to infiltrate the base, take it down, and rescue Reed alive. This is a dangerous mission – this HYDRA base has more firepower and soldiers than we’re used to. But this needs to be done. So I’m not forcing anyone to go – if no one chooses to go, Bucky and I will go in together. But know that we need you for this,” Steve says, looking at the team.

         You watched as Nat raised a hand. “Well, count me in.”

         “Same for me,” Clint piped up.

         Tony, Bruce, and Scott all volunteered as well – Sam couldn’t as he was nursing a broken ankle, and Wanda had just come back from a long solo mission.

         It was then you raised your hand. “I’ll go, too.”

         “Absolutely not,” you heard Bucky say suddenly. You looked confusedly at him.

         “What?” Surely you had heard him incorrectly.

         “You’re not going on this mission. It’s too dangerous, Y/N,” he told you. “You can stay here with Wanda and Sam.”

         “Why should I stay home when I can help? Steve said that there are a lot of soldiers—”

         “Which is exactly why you’re not going. You’re still inexperienced. Putting you in a base filled with hundreds of HYDRA soldiers is not a good idea.”

         “And saying I can’t go is?” you retorted. “I’m going.”

         Bucky’s jaw clenched, standing up suddenly. “The hell you are. I am your superior, and you’re going to stay home.”

         You were sure you felt your heart fold in on itself. Did he…

         “You’re ordering me?” you asked incredulously. Within your team, there was a slight ranking system – Steve was the leader, with Bucky, Sam, and Natasha following up with the second-highest rank. It was rarely enforced in any way – everyone worked so well together that orders and rank was barely needed. The only real rank everyone used was with Steve, but that was only on missions. So the fact that Bucky was ordering you not to go on this mission was not only shocking, but also basically unfair. You were in a relationship – you are… were… his equal.

         You sat down, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming at Bucky. He remained standing as Steve finished his debriefing; you listened to every word just in case he’d change his mind. As everyone left, Wanda squeezed your shoulder reassuringly before leaving you and Bucky alone in the briefing room.

         “What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked, folding your arms in front of you like a makeshift barrier. It hurt your heart that you needed to do this with Bucky, that this was even happening in the first place. “Why are you acting this way, Bucky? Is it something I did? Because I can’t think of anything.”

         “Really?” he asked. “Because there’s one glaring reason I can think of.”

         “Then what? Tell me, so I can fix this! Let me fix this, Bucky,” you pleaded. Your heart already was breaking at the prospect of hurting Bucky, of possibly doing something to harm your relationship with him. It’s why you’re so desperate to fix things – you care about him too much to lose him.

         He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his – a sign that something was very wrong. “I can’t deal with this anymore. I can’t deal with you rushing into missions and nearly getting hurt, or even killed. I especially can’t take you wanting to go on missions that you know would be a death trap for you.”

         “So then what, you want me to just step back? To never go on another mission? I can’t do that, Bucky. I need to help. People are being killed, and you think I can just sit back at home? I thought you knew more about me than that.”

         “I do, and that’s why you’re not going on this mission, Y/N. You can’t handle it, and I can’t handle you.”

         You were sure your heart vanished from your chest.

         For a few moments, you could barely even try forming words – the shock of what he had just said had shaken you to your core. Your hands shook as you clutched them to your chest, trying to find your heart again, trying to find Bucky again. Because clearly, this wasn’t him. It couldn’t be – your Bucky wouldn’t do this to you.

         “W-What are you saying?” you managed to whisper.

         Bucky turned around, facing the doors to the briefing room. You watched with tears in your eyes as his shoulders tensed, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

         “It’s over,” he answered coldly, his words tearing your heart into pieces.

Now:

         Your hands shake as you grab the blanket, trying to pull it closer to you. You’ve been crying off and on for the past sixteen hours, and so you were feeling weak. Wanda reaches down, pulling up the blanket for you. What’s left of your heart twists at the memory of Bucky doing that to you. The others had been gone for sixteen hours now, and you had Wanda and Sam as your support system. Well, it was mostly Wanda, as Sam offered only insults about Bucky that didn’t exactly help – you still wanted to defend him, even though he wouldn’t do the same for you anymore.

         “It’ll be all right, Y/N,” Wanda assures you. “Trust me, you’ll get through this eventually.”

         You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes again. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want anyone else but him.”

         Wanda wraps her arms around you as you begin crying again. At this point, barely any tears come out, but you still shake and feel the pain. You can’t get Bucky’s words out of your head, and you can’t stop worrying about him and the rest of the team, either. This mission is dangerous, you know that – and without him calling you to let you know he was okay, you feel incredibly uneasy. It’s unfair, you quickly realize, how much you still care for him when he has no regard for you. You’re beginning to tell Wanda that when you’re interrupted by Sam’s phone going off.

         “What’s up, Nat?” he greets casually. Almost immediately, however, Sam sits straight up, his face growing serious. He pulls the phone away from his ear, putting it on speaker. “What happened?”

         “The base… it’s guarded heavier than we thought,” Nat explains. She’s speaking quietly, not to mention the fact you know she’s injured with how she’s wincing and breathing heavily. “We were ambushed and split up. Our comms are down, but our cell phones still work – I’m the only one with it on me, though. I don’t know who’s injured, and I don’t know if anyone is in critical condition. But we need backup. There’s no way we can take on this base without more backup and medical aid.”

         “We’ll be there as fast as possible. Hang in there, Nat, okay? Stay hidden,” Wanda says.

         “It’s what I’m best at,” Nat says with a small groan, and hangs up.

         Immediately, the three of you split up to your rooms, running as fast as possible to grab the absolute essentials before getting on the jet. It’s fitted for four that has enough weapons, but has no tac gear – so all of you need to grab that out of your rooms.

         You grab your duffel bag, taking clothes and shoving them into the bag. You begin packing your tac suit, and it’s then that it hits you – Bucky could be hurt. Bucky could be…

         No. You refuse to believe that Bucky could be dead. If he’s dead, that would mean that you couldn’t try and fix things. It’s all you want, to fix things, to be back in his arms, to be with the man you love. Oh.

         Bucky is the man you love.

         You are in love with James Buchanan Barnes. You are determined to tell him just that, to march up to him and force him to listen to you, to make him realize he was being an idiot and to make him come back to you. You don’t want to go through life without him – you can’t. He needs to know that – you need to tell him that. You refuse to believe that it’s too late, that you’re going to lose him forever. It is not a reality that you can accept.

         Your phone begins to ring, and your heart drops.

         Grabbing your phone, you don’t even look at the I.D. as you answer. You don’t need to. There’s only one person that it could be. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that are already spilling out.

         “Bucky?”

         “Hey, doll.”

Part 2

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[andyl394]

REQUESTED - April Fools

Request: is April fools and reader is a prankster and is playing pranks in everyone except Bucky and they go out on a date in the day to escape the results? - Anon

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,936

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, mention of death of a close relative, FLUFF

A/N: Gosh, I took so long that it pains me AAAAAAA. SORRY, BABE! Anyway, I REACHED 300 FOLLOWERS AND I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT THANK YOU SO MUCH! <3 

MASTERLIST

You were a prankster on normal days, but it was April Fools.  

You had pranked every single person of that team, every single one of them, minus Bucky.

He didn’t know why; you pranked Steve, messing with his shield; you pranked Peter on his first day there, using a trap to turn him upside down in front of the whole team; you even pranked Natasha, for Christ’s sake! And that was like signing your suicide note! So why wouldn’t you prank him?

“Okay, everyone knows that plan, right?”

“Yeah, stay out of her sight and no one gets pranked.” Sam huffed, he would actually love to join you in your prank session day, but he didn’t know if he was a target himself.

“Good morning, family.” You yawned, entering the kitchen and ignoring their frozen figures.

“Morning, Doll,” Bucky mumbled back, away from everyone since he was never a target and they saw no reason to include them into their run away plans. “What sort of mischievous plans you got for today?” You chuckled, smiling innocently at the team that was carefully watching you grab your cereal.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Buck.” He laughed at your fake sweet voice, when you passed next to him, you couldn’t help but place a kiss on his cheek, watching them turn red.

Sitting by Bucky’s side, you looked at them expectantly as if you were waiting for something to happen.

“C’mon, Y/N. Tell me what do I have to expect. Slime on my armor, again? Maybe bouncing balls all over my workshop?” Tony asked, leaning over the Kitchen’s Counter and watching your mischievous smile grow wider.

“Hey, James. Want to go out with me for a day?” You got closer to him, seeing his surprised face as you lead your lips to his ears so you could whisper: “The tower won’t be safe for a while.”

Bucky ignored the chill that ran down his spine with having you that close and nodded his head, turning his eyes back at the huge amount of eggs, trying to control his heartbeats, but it was something hard to do when your bare leg was brushing against his.

“You have to! We won’t be able to do anything today if you don’t find out for us what is this year’s prank!” Clint tugged into Bucky’s backpack, while the others followed him, begging for the same thing.

“What make you guys think she will even tell me?”

“Because she told you today that the tower won’t be safe!” Narrowing his eyes at Steve, Bucky crossed his eyes in front of his chest “Yes, I was eavesdropping, but it’s for the greater good!”

“We told her last year that she wouldn’t get us in this!” Bucky wondered if it was at the time he was under and the cause for you not to prank him.

“I’m sure she won’t do anything that can harm.” Rolling his eyes, he entered the elevator with Tony, cocking a brow at him.

“The hell I’ll stay in this tower, just waiting to be pranked.” Both of men entered the garage, finding you ready and with a smirk on your lips.

“Going out, Tony?” Bucky chuckled, handing you one helmet and getting on his Harley, waiting for you to do the same, but you stood next to him, giggling and watching the Iron Man get closer to his car, that made him narrow his eyes at the car before heading to the one next, you laughed louder before controlling it.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you do a scan on the cars and search for any bombs, eggs, gas or anything out of common, please?” Tony smirked at you while you crossed your arms and leaned next to Bucky.

“I want to see this, wait a second, okay, love?” He blushed at the pet calling and did as told, resting his feet on the ground and waiting for whatever you prepared.

“Scan complete, sir. There is nothing out of common with your cars.”

“Just like there was nothing wrong with his armor and workshop?” Tony groaned in frustration and headed back to the elevator, cursing under his breath and leaving you laughing behind.

“Was it going to make ‘bum’?” Sitting behind him after putting the helmet, you chuckled and shrugged your shoulders after hugging him by the waist. “Where do you want to go?”

“Surprise me.”

“So… What do you have prepared for them today?” Bucky asked after checking the innumerous amount of messages that the team bombarded him. You took your eyes out of the sea, crossing your legs and grinning sweetly at him, noticing how the chilly morning sun made his eyes glisten and match the water.

“I’ll tell you when the day ends.” He got lost on your sweet smile, it wasn’t fake like the ones you use to tease Tony and annoy Sam. It was purely you.

“Will you tell me if I buy you ice cream?” Giving Bucky a hearted laugh, you shrugged your shoulders.

“I can think about that.” He hasn’t seen that side of your, the one with the soft voice and calm expression.

Maybe once or twice when you were reading a book and not around the team.

“I’ll be right back, don’t run away.” You laughed at his playful sentence as he got up, brushing the sand off his pants. “What flavor do you want?”

“I trust you to choose a yummy one, for me.” Those words meant more to him than it probably should have. But, there was something about you trusting him for something, that made a nice feeling pass all over his body.

“Ok… I’ll be right back.” You smiled, nodding with your head and continuing to watch the sea with a peaceful look on your eyes.

Bucky stood on his place for some seconds, watching how you breathed slowly, enjoying the moment and temperature, the soft sun on your skin.

When he got back, you had your eyes closed and face up to the sky, and for the – he lost the count – time, Bucky found himself getting lost on you.

“My Popsicle is going to melt, Soldier.” You chuckled, opening your eyes and smiling quietly at him before extending your hands at him; Feeling his cheeks heating, he handed you your ice cream and took a sit by your side again. Both of you stood in a comfort silence, enjoying each other companies and humming softly when needed.

“So… Why did you never pranked me?” Bucky asked casually, trying not to sound so curious; you took two minutes to answer the question and shrugging your shoulders, you played with the wood stick.

“I don’t know. I guess I just can’t… find a way to trick you. And honestly, I never wanted. You never gave me a reason to do it.” He sighed in relief, making you chuckle and arch a brow at him.

“I thought you didn’t like me.” Laughing, you denied with your head; it didn’t take long for Bucky to follow you, grabbing a hold on his stomach and laying on the sand by your side.

“Why would I?” You turned to face him, losing the air of your lungs when you saw his tinted cheeks and wrinkles next to his eyes, caused by the wide smile he held.

“I don’t know! Is just that you would never mess with me and I saw how you acted with everyone as if they were your siblings.” He shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the feeling of the rusty sand that got up on the beach mat – which you brought as soon as you got there – on his neck.

He turned his face at you, smiling softly and appreciating how close you were to him.

“I could never dislike you.” Bucky’s heart dropped at your sincere statement; again, you surprised him with sweet words, ones that he wasn’t used to hearing.

“I appreciate that.” You chuckled, getting up and extending him your hand.

“Let’s get lunch, then, I want to take you somewhere.” He smiled and nodded his head, accepting your hand and feeling his lips stretch even further when you didn’t let go of his hand, holding it while rolling the mat.

Bucky couldn’t help but to ask – and wish - himself it people that saw them, holding hands, mat on the other while he had the helmets, thought that they were just a couple in a Sunday morning walk on the beach.

“Turn right.” You said, loud enough for him to listen. “It’s here.”

He stopped the motorcycle, resting one feet on the ground and eyeing the old building in front of him.

“Where are we?” Getting on your feet and grinning, you took off the helmet, waiting with excitement for him to get out of the motorcycle.

“We are not there yet, but you’ll understand as soon as you get your pretty little ass out of there and follow me.” You giggled, running backward into the old and abandoned structure. Bucky found himself laughing yet again, following you on your little run.

"Y/N?”

“In here!” He opened the heavy door, sucking the air in awe when he saw the view. You had your arms outstretched to your sides, smiling widely and showing the view of the city.

“This is…” You grabbed his flesh hand, carefully pulling him to the edge of the terrace, sitting and patting the spot at your side.

The sun was already getting down, the sky painted in purple and orange, the cool breeze caressing his skin and hair, the city from far away was starting to light.

Literally.

All of the buildings and lighting poles were switching up, dot by dot, the city gain its so known bright.

“I used to come here, you know, before Hydra… I used to sit here for hours and wait to watch this.” Bucky finally took the eyes from the beautiful view to look at other just as – if not prettier – image.

He didn’t knew much about you, yeah, he knew about your life in Hydra and after that, but not before that.

You never told anyone.

“One day, I was late to watch the lights.” You chuckled, a nostalgic aura surrounding you, clouding your eyes. “So I escalated this very wall. I almost fell, my brother almost lost his shit right there.”

“You have a brother?”

“Had… Hydra needed two persons with DNA that were alike or some shit like that.”

There was a brief moment of silence, but Bucky didn’t think twice before placing his hand on top of yours.

“Why are you telling me this? Why did you bring me here?” You shrugged your shoulders.

“I guess this is how I try to say that I like you.”

His heart dropped at your words, how could you like him?

Your eyes met his, and since Bucky wasn’t good with words, he did the first thing that came to his mind.

He kissed you softly, cupping your cheek with his metal hand and sighing in content when you kissed him back.

“I like you too.” You smiled, grabbing the hand that was on your cheek; when you were about to kiss him again, the buzzing sound of his phone made you both jump slightly.

“Oh, just a second.” Bucky widened his eyes when he checked on the messages and pictures of the team paranoid. “Uh, I know is a mood killer, but… What is this year’s prank?” You laughed before giving him a quick peck on his lips.

“There is none.”

“What?”

“Yeah, this year’s prank is that there isn’t one. I knew they would lose their minds and wait for it, but it will never come.” Smiling devilishly at him, you watched him laugh loudly, kissing you again multiple times, saying between them:

“You. Little. Devilish. Thing.” And you couldn’t be happier.

Condemn to a forever tagging: @fangirlandnerd @noones-girl1980 @myplaceofthingsilove @hopelessgarbage @elaacreditava

All Bucky: @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x