#sam and bucky do go onto beating all their previous records

[thatmexisaurusrex]

heyy ☺️ i would love to see #31 for the sambucky fluff diary 💕 thank you

Thank you so much for the prompt, Anon! #31 is such a wide-reaching prompt that I think I'm going to make this a Five-Parter since I'm sure Sam and Bucky have gone on a lot of beautiful dates, and it wouldn't give the dates they're recreating justice if I just speed past them in one drabble. So rejoice! You've gotten five drabbles for the price of one prompt request! 🥰 I hope you enjoy them all! 🥰

Date 18 of 28: Recreate Their Best Previous Dates Part 1 of 5 - Ax-Throwing Bar

| - 17 - | - Prompt - | - 19 - |

"Our greatest hits?" said Sam, raising an eyebrow, still not sure why he was dressed like a lumberjack, why he agreed to dress like a lumberjack (Sam was pretty sure kissing was involved), why dressing like a lumberjack felt oddly familiar.

"Hell yeah, our greatest hits. I've planned five of these nostalgic dates," said Bucky, tossing a motorcycle helmet to Sam, "And for this first one I mean literally. Because we're going to the ax-throwing bar."

Sam grinned.

"Oh, right. We did that after the Trampoline Park, didn't we?" said Sam, remembering how he was going to set everything up for that, but Bucky, the asshole, beat him to the punch and surprised Sam with the date at the ax-throwing bar.

Bucky had reserved two hours for him and Sam to throw axes in one of the ten throwing pits at Stumpy's Hatchet House. Bucky had somehow convinced Sam to dress as a lumberjack that night too (with the same distraction tactics) and brought Sam all the way into town the same way.

"You know, this would be faster if you just picked me up and carried me there," said Sam, putting the helmet on, getting on behind Bucky, holding his waist tightly, "You're faster than most cars."

"I do not want to run in traffic Sam. Do you know what the news would say?" said Bucky, "Besides, taking your wings would be faster, but again, the media would probably ruin the fun of that and possibly some air traffic laws."

"All very good points. I concede," said Sam, and it wasn't as if Sam didn't love holding onto Bucky, "What are you waiting for? Let's ride."

Sam always loved this. The wind; the speed; the edge of danger; the way Sam could hold onto Bucky this tightly, this closely, in public and no one would say anything about it. It also helped that this was something Bucky truly enjoyed.

Bucky just liked motorcycles. Sam knew nothing about motorcycles, but he knew the one Bucky got was vintage, one he had to half-rebuild, got specific parts for and everything, was so excited when he made the announcement that he finally finished it, his excitement thrumming as Sam went with Bucky on his first ride on the bike.

Bucky loved it.

And Sam loved Bucky.

So, Sam loved the bike as well.

Lost in the feeling of just being with Bucky, snuggling up close to him, Sam hadn't even realized they were at Stumpy's before Bucky said, "Sam?" probably for the eighth, warm and low and knowing exactly how Sam felt, Sam was sure.

"Sorry," said Sam, not letting go of Bucky.

Bucky let this go on for another five minutes before he said, "We could go in hugging like this. You could throw your axes from behind me. Do the - Poltergeist thing?"

Sam cackled.

"Ghost," said Sam through tears, "Poltergeist is a very different film."

"Okay. So, we'll have to do a double feature at some point, got it," said Bucky, the both of them getting off the bike as Sam reluctantly let go of Bucky.

There was only so much weird Sam could put out into the world, and he wasn't sure if people were prepared for Sam Wilson, aka Captain America, just clinging onto his boyfriend from behind for two hours in public. Plus, he did actually want to throw some of those axes.

They signed in and headed straight to the bar first, like they did last time, convincing the bartender again to make them Lumberjack cocktails, Sam smiling at the taste of whiskey, lemon, and maple as they both headed towards their lane - Lane Five.

"You think we're going to beat our record?" mused Bucky, starting with the first hatched - bullseye!

The last time Sam and Bucky had been to the bar, they'd beat every single record the bar had for ax-throwing. Bucky and Sam were world-class marksmen, after all. And neither of them had missed a bullseye yet.

"Come on? You think we won't?" asked Sam, throwing another hatched and - bullseye!

"Thank you for suggesting this as a date idea in the first place," said Bucky, giving Sam a sweet peck on the lips before throwing and - bullseye!

"No, thank you for making it happen," said Sam, grinning at Bucky a little dopey, tossing and - bullseye!

Sam already could feel the eyes on them both, the lack of throwing from the other lanes. Sam didn't pay it any mind. Tonight was just about him, his man, and them beating their own series of records from the last time they were there.

This was going to be a fun night.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Want to choose a date for Sam and Bucky to go on during this special February Daily SamBucky Fluff Diary event? Check out the prompts here and send me an ask! I’ll write you a drabble as one of my Daily SamBucky Fluff Diaries!

[jimblejamblewritings]

not a soldat | part 15.

Summary: Y/N L/N is not a superhero. No serums, no agencies. Just a civilian from a long line of family that’s served in the military. Y/N’s a history buff and bit of a spy in her own special way. This somehow lands her in trouble she never saw coming and straight into the hands of Falcon, Captain America, and Black Widow… if she doesn’t get caught in the unbreakable grasp of the Winter Soldier first.

Warning for the Series: violence, angst, slow burn

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The dog, Jennie, joined you once again on the porch. Her head in your lap wasn’t making your job any easier but you weren’t about to push the puppy away. After she whined a little, you put down your laptop and scratched her head. Jennie couldn’t get enough of the pets and you were happy to oblige. You switched hands when your phone rang so you could pick it up but still pet the dog.

“Hel—”

“(Y/N)! Get the hell out!”

“Steve?”

“He knew we were coming, he knows someone has the list. We’re on our way but get the hell out!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll—”

“(Y/N)?”

“Printesa,” Bucky’s voice came on the line.

“There’s a car in the forest.” Your voice faltered off.  

The phone was irrelevant as you stared at the two bright circles peeking through the trees. You watched the headlights come a bit closer before stopping. The car was still a distance away, the lights the only thing that you could see.

“(Y/N)? Talk to us, what’s happening?”

“He found Penny.”

You heard Steve yell over the line asking Clint if the quinjet could go any faster. You couldn’t move as you watched the lights. Until suddenly the car lights cut off.

“There’s nowhere to go. She lives nowhere.”

“Hide, printe—”

Bucky yelled as the phone cut off. The team tried to push the quinjet as fast as possible. They weren’t too far away but it was far enough that if you knew Sabretooth was there, they might not have time.

You ushered the dog back inside and grabbed Penny. She didn’t have any secret rooms or safehouses and while you knew it, you were hoping to be wrong. All Penny had was a back door. According to the records, Victor didn’t have super hearing. There was a slight chance that you two could sneak out the back. It was the only chance, considering if you hid in the house he would definitely find you.

You removed the knife from your thigh strap and handed it to Penny. Just like you before Bucky’s mini training session, Penny had no clue what to do with it and you had no time to teach her. She clutched onto the knife as you two ran— neither having time to grab shoes. You heard the loud crash of her backdoor being busted open.

“Stay here, don’t make a sound.” You pushed Penny down into a ditch and kept running.

The Avengers landed the quinjet and raced out without even bothering to check that they turned it off. The front door was swung wide open. But as they checked, there was no semblance of life in the house. Nat was the first to the area where the back door was and just like the front, they could tell it had been busted. The team split quickly, some staying at the house while most ran into the woods.

You heard the footsteps get closer. Your stamina was wearing down and you weren’t sure how much longer your adrenaline could beat out Sabretooth’s speed. The loose branches and rocks in the path were cutting at your feet. You screamed in pain as the claw marks hit your arm. Victor was on you. Running was going to fail but you couldn’t turn and fight either. You tried to push but it was too late. The shock of getting scratched in the first place had slowed you down. Victor pulled you to the ground, his claws cutting marks into your leg as you were dragged along the forest floor.

“Printesa!”

Bucky screamed as they heard the gunshots. They reached to see Victor bleeding out on the ground, a cluster of shots to the head and a few littered in other places on his body. You were laying on the ground as well. You dropped the gun as soon as you recognized Bucky, Sam, and Steve.

“You need to hold him, he’ll heal from it.”

You were in shock but still cognizant enough to do your job as you motioned to Victor. Sam and Steve grabbed Victor’s currently dead body while Bucky tried to scoop you up as gently as possible.

“Bruce! We need medical started on the jet now,” he yelled into the comm.

You insisted on walking off the quinjet in order to ensure they had Victor locked up properly and to show Penny the guest rooms in the compound. It had been agreed that Tony and the others would help her relocate and bring her records back to you. So for the week, Penny and her dog would stay on the compound instead of holding them up in some motel.

You were limping and moving terribly slow but the old woman didn’t mind. Bucky on the other hand was very bothered. The minute Penny closed her door, Bucky appeared from the around the corner— he had been stalking close behind. You jumped when you saw him. He had a habit of purposely making his footsteps louder so you were aware he was there but sometimes the master assassin that he was slipped out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, printesa. Just don’t want you walking more than you have to.”

Bucky looked at the bandages that were now soaked with blood again. You felt small as he eyed you, it wasn’t flirty but observation. Bucky looked at the blood stains on your dress and something wasn’t adding up. There was a stain that wouldn’t be possible just from scratches on your calf and arm. And then he noticed the dress you had worn wasn’t a dress but a matching two piece set.

One that you had hiked the skirt up higher when you had seen Steve, him, and Sam approaching to hide the large wound to your lower abdomen. It had taken you longer than you would’ve liked to admit to remember you now had a gun and then having to pull it out without Victor taking it from you. For once Bucky didn’t explicitly ask if you were okay before he reached to pull your skirt back down to its normal level, now seeing the wound that caused the unusual bloodstain.

“(Y/N).”

“I didn’t want to alarm anyone before we got Sabretooth confined.”

“Darlin’, you can’t do that. At least tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

He shook his head and carried you up to your room. Bucky was used to cleaning up after Steve’s fights in the 40s and then sometimes his own injuries when HYDRA neglected to take care of him. He set you down on your bathroom counter after removing your bloodied clothes, leaving you in underwear, so he could clean your wounds properly. He shushed and cooed as you winced with every movement.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so good for me. I don’t know if this will heal without scars.” Bucky’s voice softened to a level reserved solely for you.

He carefully washed you and helped you into new clothes. He tied your hair for you, struggling but refusing to give up, and then got you water. The tears started as you hardcore felt the pain now that the meds Bruce gave you on the quinjet wore off. Bucky was near panicking at this point. He hadn’t seen you cry, not that he could recall— not even when he attacked you in Winter Soldier mode.

“It hurts, James.”

His first name. You were seriously in pain and he knew it. You looked up at him with wet eyes and Bucky felt as if he was in pain himself. He watched your eyes flit to the side like you were debating something.

“Will you please stay, until I fall asleep.” You added the last part quickly in hopes of avoiding rejection.

“I think I can do that,” he said as he helped you down from the counter.

He took off his shoes, realizing you’d chew him out later for having walked all in your room with them on— but he was still in his tactical gear. That you didn’t seem to care about since you pulled him towards the bed anyway. You curled up and rested your head on Bucky’s midriff, trying not to be in a position that would wake you up when he had to get up and leave. Bucky watched your breathing even out. He waited another thirty minutes to make sure you were actually asleep before gently setting your head on a pillow and leaving.

Sam caught him as Bucky entered his room— Sam had switched floors a couple weeks ago, no longer wanting to be on the floor that often stayed empty since it was shared with Thor and Clint. Bucky and Steve were still getting used to Sam’s odd habits of having to get up in the middle of the night for something before sleeping again. Sam couldn’t help the confused look on his face when he saw Bucky not in your room. But it was all over his face and Bucky knew he owed your best friend an explanation. He wasn’t expecting to have to provide Natasha an explanation but suddenly she came out of Sam’s room as well.

“I’m just scared I’ll hurt her again.”

“Barnes, we get it. I’m sure she gets it.”

“I know, I just wish she didn’t have to.”

(Part 16)...

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter three // didn’t care much how long i lived

summary: bucky receives a lesson on modern music over cheap beers and freshly baked scones.

warnings: mentions of abuse, food, alcohol consumption, character death (sorry)

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: besties...how we feeling about today’s episode??? using this as a coping mechanism :)

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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Your record collection was extensive and collecting an unhealthy layer of dust since you had inherited them from your grandmother. It didn’t take long to fish out a Best Of album from the vast shelves, handing over the sleeve to Bucky, who sat patiently on your forest green couch, as you fiddled with the turntable’s needle.

To busy himself, he read over the repertoire of songs listed on the back.

“Let’s Get It On?”

“Usually, a guy buys a girl dinner first, Bucky.” You took a cheeky swig of your beer with an eyebrow raise as he flushed at the insinuation. “We’ll start easy. If I Could Build My Whole World Around You. A criminally under-appreciated love song.”

A bouncy beat crackled through from the speakers as you settled into the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you. Today’s choice of pajama bottoms displayed little snowflakes across a navy background, despite the heat outside that still lingered into nighttime.

“I like it.” Bucky decided.

“Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell have so many amazing songs together. She might not sound like it on record, but she had a hard life. Abusive, cheating partners. Brain cancer that killed her young. Hard to know what anyone’s going through behind closed doors.”

I’d put so much love where there is sorrow, I’d put joy where there’s never been before.

“I really like it.”

Your apron still hung from your waist, the gentle tick of the kitchen timer in the shape of a grey cat sat by your side. A reminder of the scones you were whipping up when Bucky unexpectedly appeared on your doorstep. You didn’t question him or bring up the late hour. Simply ushered him in with a smile and a beer shoved into his gloved hand.

Bucky feels comfortable for the first time in a long time. Eyes focused, mind stagnant. Your perfume, woodsy and natural, lingers in the air and he has to take a long gulp of his drink just to occupy himself for just a second.

“I’m glad you like it. Though, I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. It’s like not liking Queen.”

“Queen?”

The timer rattled on the coffee table and the smell of vanilla and blueberries nipped at Bucky’s nose.

“Saved by the bell! I don’t have the time to berate you on not knowing about Queen.”

You bustled your way back into the kitchen, sliding oven mitts onto your hands as you inspected the oven with a professional certainty. The record out and into the next track as Bucky watched on, your shoulders swaying to the slow tempo. You were light on your feet as you plucked one tray from the heat and replaced it with another.

It was so easy for Bucky to imagine this world as his, with the soft swing of Motown as the soundtrack to your shared afternoons. In a different life, he would come home to your baking, ask how studying went as you swayed in the kitchen together. You would wash dishes next to one another, hips pressed close, and giggle when he would press his sudsy hands onto your cheeks. You would smear remnants of cake batter on his and he would let you feed him dessert from your fingers.

It wasn’t possible, he knew. Probably ever. You would be graduating school soon, off to be an important attorney and he would still just be your across the hallway neighbor who you sometimes shared desserts and pleasantries with. You would find out who he was eventually. Everyone did. You would leave. Everyone did.

You would simply be another in a long line of failed attempts by James Buchanan Barnes.

Still, he thought, we can have this one simple night. Where you don’t know who he is, and he can imagine that it lasts long after he retreats back to his apartment.

‘Heaven must have sent you from above.’ Crooned the lovesick singers on your record player.

As you returned to the living room with another beer and the promise of scones as soon as they cooled, Bucky could only think one thing.

He was definitely starting to like Marvin Gaye.

He was starting to like you, too.

When he returned back to his apartment, hours later with a pile of records you insisted he borrow in his arms and a belly full of blueberry scones, he fell into bed without a care in his mind. It was his first full night of sleep in ninety years.

-

Bucky started appearing on your doorstep more often.

Your number was now saved in his phone and was his most frequently used contact. You were his secret, though, something he didn’t even share with Dr. Raynor. No matter how many times she tried to get him to speak about his troubling lack of acquaintances.

You were the one thing in the world untouched by all the destruction waging a war between his ears, you were easy and simple and God, it had been a long time since anything had been simple. You didn’t mind that he was brooding and a little bit clueless, or his cheesy jokes and complaints about technology these days.

His record collection was quickly growing, though it was still nowhere near yours.

Most of all, he liked sitting in your apartment, at your kitchen counter or on that forest green sofa of yours. Sometimes, you would let him pick a record and tell him everything you could remember about it. Other times, you would read from your heavy law books and he’d pretend to understand the cases and terminology, head resting against the back of your couch, admiring how your brows would furrow in concentration. He’d tell you not to hunch over your book, but you’d insist you were fine, only to be complaining about your neck the next time he saw you.

“I wish I read more actual books, you know? It seems like all I know these days are case studies.”

The next visit he’d have a worn copy of one of his favorite books tucked under his arm. He’d read to you until you’d doze off to the stories of Bilbo Baggins and his team of dwarves, a blanket tucked up to your neck.

Every visit cemented yourself further and further into his identity, until his trips to the used bookstore down the block became weekly and his morning runs became longer as you pushed more and more baked goods his way. You’d kiss his cheek as you said your goodbyes, leaning against your doorframe as he disappeared into his apartment.

He was happy. Positively, unbelievably happy.

-

Two days before Bucky’s next scheduled visit, Steve died in his sleep.

Pneumonia, or something, Bucky didn’t really comprehend any of the newscast beyond the headline ‘CAPTAIN AMERICA DEAD’ flashing in bold letters across his television screen.

Sam called early that morning and Bucky just knew. He knew what was waiting for him on the other end of that call, so he shut his phone off and laid back on the hardwood floor of his living room, dead to the world.

He didn’t speak to anyone for a few days, not even bothering with his daily runs or grocery store trips. Your knocks at his door went unanswered, with no trace that you had even stood in the hallway waiting for him other than a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies on his doormat. The only appointment he kept was his therapy, where he stared out the window and counted down the minutes until he could leave. Each attempt on Dr. Raynor’s part to bring up Steve was shut down as quickly as it was brought up.

Finally, a week later, a pounding at the door woke him from a restless afternoon nap.

“Buck, I know you’re in there.”

Sam. Of course.

“These boxes are heavy, come on!”

Sam Wilson took up Bucky’s entire doorway with his broad shoulders, the boxes stacked in his arms taking up the rest. Bucky was quick to usher him in the door, eyeing yours across the hall. He knew one look at an Avenger on his stoop would finally connect the dots for you, and you’d never speak to the Winter Soldier again.

“Keep your voice down.” Bucky shoved the final box through the doorway before securing the lock in place.

Sam surveyed his barren living room, eyes flicking to the crumpled bedsheets gathered on the floor next to his sofa but didn’t linger for long.

“I was worried about you, man.”

It used to be ‘we’, but now it’s just Sam.

“Nothing to worry about.” Bucky pushed past him to his kitchen, collecting stray dishes he hadn’t bothered to move to the sink before then. He felt Sam’s careful gaze on him the entire time. He hated that. He hated how much Sam cared.

He mostly hated how much it reminded him of Steve.

“Found these boxes in Steve’s attic. Had your name on them so I thought you might want ‘em.”

Bucky swallowed hard, focused on scrubbing the dishes under water so hot it was turning the skin on his flesh hand a violent red.

“I know this is hard, Buck-”

The glass he had been rinsing shattered between his fingers and Sam took a step back as Bucky heaved in uneven breaths. There was a long silence between the two grieving men, neither able to fully understand the other. Sam would never feel Bucky’s ninety-year heartache, the abandonment and fear of the life ahead of him. Bucky would never understand the weight on Sam’s shoulders or his unease at the shield tucked under his bed at home.

“I just want to be alone.”

Sam could do nothing but respect his wish.

“Call if you need anything.” Were his departing words as he showed himself out.

Bucky got to work cleaning up the broken glass.

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Untouchable 15 - The End [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Sorry about the long wait my loves, here’s the final chapter, I hope you will like it !

The previous chapters are on my masterlist<3

Pleasure has a price Bucky Barnes can’t afford. What happens when he falls in love with someone he shouldn’t have?

Summary: Future holds many possibilities.

Characters: Reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 3336

Warnings: Mentions of sex, explicit language. 

This felt exactly like that pleasant, numb state where you couldn’t exactly tell whether you were sleeping or awake.

There were voices though. Different voices.

“What’s that around her neck?”

“Listen, if HYDRA did this-“

“Maybe they put that necklace, it could help us somehow.”

But God, why did it have to be so cold?

“Go get Barnes and Captain Rogers.”

“Why does she have his-”

“I said go rookie, now!”

There were a bunch of lights flashing behind your closed eyelids, a wave of voices until they retreated, letting you pull yourself from the soft and warm realm of sleep.

Then you woke up with a gasp and sat up in bed, breathing hard and looking around, fear crashing down on you, you had to get out, get somewhere else, get to the-

“Darling?”

You turned your head to see the owner of the voice, and blinked a couple of times, your mind screaming at you as soon as it dawned on you.

“Bucky?” you breathed out, your heart still pounding in your ears. He looked different than what you remembered, his hair was longer, and the carefree light in his eyes was gone, compared to before. His clothes were also different, and he was wearing a leather jacket and gloves even though you were pretty sure you were indoors.

“What-where am I? What happened to you?”

“Just-“ he approached you and sat beside you, “How do you feel?”

“Confused!” you exclaimed, “When did you- how long have I been sleeping?”

“A while.”

“Bucky.”

“Around seventy years.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you jumped up from the bed to rush to the window to see your reflection, frowning slightly.

“Very funny,” you turned to him, “I look the same. So do you, except for the hair and…” you motioned at him, “What is happening? Am I dreaming?”

“No,” he shook his head, “But um…you might want to sit down for this.”

You crossed your arms, still glaring at him even if all you wanted to do was to hug him and be closer to him, no matter what game he was playing.

“I’m not sitting down until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Doll-“

“Also lose the gloves for God’s sake, it’s warm here, what is this a new style?”

Bucky nibbled on his lip, deep in thought, then pulled the gloves off his hands and shed the jacket, and your breath caught in your throat as your gaze fell on his arm that seemed to be made of metal.

It took you almost half a minute to pull yourself together before you managed to meet his eyes, then bit inside your cheek and made your way to the bed to sit down.

“Okay,” you said slowly, “Okay. Tell me what is happening then.”

                                              ***

Maybe you weren’t supposed to ask the questions you didn’t want to be answered, because in this case, you definitely didn’t need this.

Any of this. Whatever this was.

A part of you still refused to believe it.

Everything that happened for the rest of the day felt like some sort of absurd dream. You were taken to a high tower, introduced to some people –Avengers, if you recalled right-, as well as being informed by some agents. Bucky never left your side even for a minute, and eventually you grew too tired to even answer any of their questions so you let him take you to his apartment.

The road was so strange though. You knew you were still in Brooklyn, but everything looked so different that you could’ve been anywhere really.

“Well, your place is different than I remember,” you tried to joke as you walked into his apartment and he smiled at you slightly.

“Not that different,” he said and you raised your brows, looking around. You had to admit that it looked more….familiar than the tower, especially with the way Bucky decorated it, as if trying to capture a small part of old times. The record player at the corner of the living room made you bite inside your cheek as you remembered the last time you had played a song in his place, and crossed your arms, taking a look at the black and white photos.

“Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, then reached out to drag your fingertips over the smooth surface of the photo.

“Your family?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “That’s uh…. That’s Becca. She’s in a nursing home now though.”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes, but managed to blink back the tears.

“I don’t think anyone I know is alive,” you mumbled, “Thomas, maybe. None of the girls.”

“We can check.”

“My line of work doesn’t really allow dying of old age,” you hesitated for a moment, “Or…didn’t.”

Bucky shook his head fervently, “You never have to do that again. Ever.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh, and pulled your gaze off the pictures.

“No Mrs. Barnes?” you asked him, “I’m not seeing any wedding pictures here.”

Bucky shook his head again, a laugh escaping from his lips.

“Yeah, this dame in 40s did a number on me.”

You tilted your head, shooting him a questioning look, “Seventy something years is a long time to mourn, Sarge.”

He heaved a shaky breath, as if he had missed hearing that in all those years and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I spent most of those years….”

“Brainwashed,” you finished his sentence “Damn it- right, sorry.”

“No it’s okay,” he said, “And when I became-well, myself again, I couldn’t….” he trailed off, “They told me you died, Y/N. When I was at the front. Couple of weeks before HYDRA got to me.”

“Yeah, General said he would do that,” a bitter taste appeared in your mouth, “So this HYDRA, if- if they did that to you, they did it to use you, to assassinate people. But I don’t think I-“ you frowned slightly, “What did they do to me?”

“They’re trying to crack the files back at the tower right now.”

“I’m sorry, crack the-?”

“Right,” he smiled, “Sorry. There’s a code on those files, and it can destroy them, so we’re trying to get it out without damaging any of the information.”

“Who’s we?”

“Steve and Sam are handling it right now. When he said that to you, did he…” his jaw clenched as he trailed off and you shook your head.

“He threatened me and I um- I lost consciousness, I woke up here.” You rubbed at your eyes, “Decades later- Jesus, this is fucked…”

“I know.”

“This shouldn’t be possible,” you lowered your hands, “I- I don’t even know what they did to me, and we’re here and you’re here and I-“ you could feel your breath getting caught in your throat as Bucky approached you the same way somebody would approach a feral but wounded animal, slowly and carefully, “I don’t even know how to survive here-“

“Darling, hey,” his voice was low, and he pulled you closer to himself to embrace you in his arms, letting you bury your nose into his shirt, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Just breathe, alright? We’re going to figure it out together, I promise you nothing bad will happen to you, not anymore, not ever.”

You nodded slowly, still holding onto him tight but pulled back when the doorbell rang. You tried to pull yourself together, wiping at your eyes before noticing his worried gaze on you.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “Really.”

He nodded and walked to the door,

“Wait, already?” you heard his voice as soon as he opened it and Sam and Steve walked inside.

“Yeah uh… we need to talk,” Sam said “To both of you.”

“What?” you asked him, “You- um- crashed the files?”

“Cracked.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “That. Did you?”

They exchanged glances with each other as Bucky grabbed the file from Steve to skim the lines, then froze, his glance snapping up to you. You let out an impatient breath, and snatched it out of his hands to take a look at what was written inside,

“The subject shows signs of manipulating others through desire-“ you murmured, and followed the lines with your finger before you reached the end, your heart beating in your ears as the anger filled your system.

“This is wrong,” you told them, “Must be. There’s been a mistake.”

“There were multiple video recordings,” Steve mumbled, “Whatever they gave you to experiment on you, it made you….enhanced.”

“Enhanced,” you repeated, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Whatever they did led to you gaining a specific power,” Sam said, “Just like Wanda. Just like other experiment subjects.”

“And my power is-“

“…They called you Seductress.” Steve muttered gently, as if trying his hardest to make it sound alright, “But apparently at a specific point, you almost escaped using your power, so they had to freeze you back.”

“I’m not-“ you stammered, “I don’t feel any different.”

“We don’t know what triggers it yet,” Steve said, “We just know it doesn’t work on other enhanced people. Probably doesn’t work on Bucky or me either, because of the serum.”

You felt as if you would throw up, then shook your head,

“I need a moment, excuse me.” You managed to say and walked out of the apartment, Steve stopping Bucky as soon as he attempted to follow you, muttering something to him about HYDRA. You made your way downstairs, then stepped out the door to inhale the cold weather, closing your eyes for a moment.

Seductress.

They had made you into something they could use, just like the others.

Just like everyone else in your life.

You opened your eyes again, shaking your head then a girl smoking a couple feet away from you captured your attention.

“Hey, could I get one?” you asked her and she nodded before you took a cigarette from her,

“Thanks.” You told her as she lit it, and exhaled the smoke while she walked away. The door opened and Sam stepped outside, then offered you a small smile.

“Can I join you?”

You shrugged slightly, then offered him the cigarette but he shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t use it.”

“Lucky you.” You said, staring into space and he cleared his throat.

“Rogers is in there trying to talk sense into your boyfriend.”

“Not possible but I appreciate the attempt,” you mumbled “Have you seen them?”

“Seen what?”

“The records.”

Sam shifted his weight, “Yeah. Some of them.”

“And what do I-“ you tried to blink back the tears, “What do I do?”

“Not what you’re thinking right now,” he said slowly, “The records that I saw, you… you just ordered a dude to do whatever you wanted. It’s like hypnosis, mostly. They just- listen to you.”

“Because of seduction.”

“Seductress is a weird way to put it, HYDRA isn’t very creative,”

You scoffed, “Yeah? What would you call me then?”

“Weird Hypnotic Chick.”

You tried to smile, then shook your head, looking elsewhere.

“Of all the things,” you muttered, “Of all the powers…. Decades later and I still can’t escape my past.”

“Yeah, not the best super power out there,” Sam agreed with you, “I’d pick super strength. Or super speed.”

“I’d be invisible.”

He turned to look at you, “What?”

“Yeah. I’d- if I could pick a superpower. Invisibility.”

“Why?”

You wiped at your nose, then exhaled the smoke again, “People would leave me alone then,” you mumbled, “I’d be able to escape people’s gaze, and I could- I could-“ you looked down at the cigarette, “I could escape from…seducing people. I don’t want it anymore.”

A silence fell upon you and Sam clicked his tongue,

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re really not my type.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter escaping from your lips and you turned to him, eyebrows raised,

“What?”

“You’re not my type. Sorry,” he held up his hands, “I know it’s tough to hear it but….facts.”

You already knew Sam would become one of your favorite people in the world, very fast.

“It is tough to hear it,” you nodded, still smiling, “Wow. I don’t know what to do now.”

“Yeah, aside from your terrible taste in men, and uh, smoking, and-“ he motioned at you, “Everything else, you also have weird elbows.”

You gawked at him for a couple of seconds, then burst into a laughter, clutching at your stomach. He chuckled, still keeping his eyes on you and you shook your head slightly as you threw the cigarette butt on the sideway.

“Thank you.” You said, “I uh… it means a lot.”

“Sure thing,” he told you, “So do you wanna stay here a bit longer to give him a heart attack? Because I totally support that.”

You scoffed, then shook your head again.

“Let’s go,” you nodded at the door, “I should learn more about my powers, I suppose.”

                                              ***

Well the future was…interesting for sure.

You still had no idea what triggered your powers, or how to catch up with the 21st century really, but at least you had Bucky.

Who looked like he was trying his hardest to maintain some distance from you.

It wasn’t that you expected everything to be the same, not after decades, but for you it felt as if it had been only couple of days since you had seen him in that wretched prison cell back in 40s and you were still together in a way.

Not that you could blame him. It was a long time after all.

But he still looked so handsome that he managed to make your heartbeat go crazy whenever he was anywhere near your sight. But throughout years, at least you had learned how to keep your desires hidden so while he, Sam and Steve talked about getting more information about your powers from the files that couldn’t be cracked yet, you kept your whole attention on the news you were currently reading on this electronic device Bucky called a tablet.

You had missed out so much in the last couple of decades.

“I mean when we find the trigger words it will be easier,” Sam said and Steve heaved a sigh.

“Tony is still working on it downstairs, but I was thinking Shuri could help. She did it before with you.”

Bucky nodded, “I’ll try to get in touch with her,” he said and turned to you, “Y/N?”

You looked up from the tablet, “Is this all real?”

“Hm?”

“These news, is this all real? Like everything I read in here, it’s happening?”

“Yeah.” Steve said and you scoffed.

“The world is a mess.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam muttered, “You’d be surprised.”

“Jesus Christ, how do people not feel bad after seeing all this?” you motioned at the tablet and Bucky thought for a moment.

“You get used to it,” he said, “Are you hungry? Dinner?”

“I’m not that hungry but I could eat.”

Bucky cleared his throat and stole a look at Steve who just shrugged.

“I’m not hungry-“

“It’s time for us to go,” Sam elbowed him before a look of realization dawned on Steve’s face.

“Right- Avengers thing.”

“Oh I can eat alone if you’re busy,” you told Bucky who shook his head fervently.

“I’m not busy.”

“Aren’t you a part of the team?”

“We got this, no worries.” Sam grinned and grabbed his jacket, “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

“Yeah, see you,” Steve said and you waved at them as they closed the door. You pressed your lips together and tilted your head at Bucky who looked almost embarrassed.

“That was very subtle,” you commented as he shifted his weight.

“Yeah I was hoping they wouldn’t make it that obvious,” he muttered, “I um- would you like to go out tonight?”

“Yeah,” you nodded fervently, “Sure thing. I was actually wondering how Brooklyn looks now, I saw some parts when I was in the car but…”

Bucky smiled and offered you his hand, making you let out a giggle as you took it and stood up.

“I think I know exactly where I should take you.”

                                                    ***

To be perfectly honest, Bucky could’ve taken you anywhere and you would be happy with it as long as you were with him, but you had no idea where you were. After getting out of the car he had asked if you would want to walk around and of course you had said, thinking that you would get a sight of anything familiar, but there wasn’t any.

They had changed the whole city while you were frozen.

“Looks very different, doesn’t it?” Bucky  asked and you shrugged slightly.

“I have no idea where we are,” you tilted your head to shoot him a mischievous look, “Are you kidnapping me Sarge?”

He scrunched up his nose, “You still don’t trust me huh?”

“Can’t be too careful.” You joked, and clicked your tongue, “So? Where are we then?”

He hmmed, “I will give you a clue.”

“Okay.”

“First date.”

You raised your brows,  “The- the coffee house?”

“Before that.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before the thought crashed down on you and your jaw dropped before you turned around, looking up to see a clue of what this place used to be, but of course everything looked very modern.

“The ruins?” You heard your own breathless whisper and he smiled,

“The ruins,” he repeated, “The city got rid of the building or what was left of it about fifty years ago, but I tracked it down.”

“I didn’t think you would remember that,” you trailed off, “I thought you… with everything that happened-“

“I’d move on?”

“You’ve been keeping your distance since we learned about this HYDRA thing,” you admitted and his eyes snapped to yours before he took a deep breath,

“When I first came back,” he said, “I needed my space. I needed to figure out who I was, and I thought you- I thought it would be better if I didn’t pressure you into anything, not when you’re still adjusting.”

You could feel your heart melting as you tried to blink back tears and his eyes searched yours.

“And I’m still not pressuring you into anything,” he said, “I just- I need you to know. After decades, after HYDRA, after everything, I’m still in love with you. I always will be, and if you-“ he couldn’t say the rest of what he was going to say when you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his. His palm cupped your cheek and pressed you closer to him, making you smile and that familiar warmth spread through your system before you pulled back slightly.

“Still a smooth talker, aren’t you Sarge?” you asked, making him chuckle and he stole another kiss from your lips.

“I try.”

You dragged your fingernails over the back of his neck gently, and heaved a sigh.

“But what about these powers?” you asked, “Are you sure they can- they can fix this? That I won’t put you or anyone else in danger?”

“Shuri is a genius,” he explained, “She helped me, and I’m sure she would help you. She’s the best.”

“You will be there though?” you insisted and he entwined his fingers with yours,

“Of course darling. As long as you want me to.”

You didn’t even try to hide the smile pulling at your lips, then took a deep breath and looked around.

“Let’s go back home.”

Bucky looked almost confused, “Don’t you want to eat first?”

“No, not really,” you said, “I want to do something else though.”

“What is that?”

As it turned out, Bucky was right all those years ago.

Maybe you would get to have your happy ending after all.

You grinned before you pulled him down for another kiss, and looked up at him before pulling him towards the car.

“Making new memories Sarge,” you said, “We have decades to make up for, don’t you think?”

                                                         THE END

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[heli0s-writes]

Fuckin’ Legit

Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Follow up to Fuckin’ Teamwork, based off this ask. A/N: More silly shenanigans. Dumbass reader :) 2.1k words

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

Bucky watches from a distance as you hurl through the air and land right heel-first on the training dummy, knocking its head off and making it bounce off the floor with enough force to lodge itself into the ceiling. The room of SHIELD recruits clap and cheer, and when the dummy’s head flops back down you kick it like a hacky-sack at Maria Hill.

“Great demonstration,” Hill catches the head and tucks it under her arm. “Are you interested in teaching a course in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on aerial recovery? Legitimately?”

“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.” You send a wink at her and then, as soon as you see Bucky’s bewildered face through the other side of the glass, you leap after him. He’s convinced you’re dumber than a bag of rocks, but you’re not deterred by it—especially not after Maria Hill’s validation. Puffing your chest, you skip forward, “Hey, Buck! I’m legit!”

Immediately, you trip and face plant into the nearest surface. The room collectively hisses in discomfort.

“I take that back.” Maria hurriedly ushers the recruits out before they can witness anything else.

Bucky slips through the door and roughly yanks you up by your elbow, wincing when your nose reveals a line of blood dripping into your mouth. “Legit, my ass. Come on. Stark called for us.”

-

The air in the conference room is stagnant and overwrought with a million unsaid—unscreamed—expressions. Tony pivots on his lifted heels, finger jabbing toward the big screen where a dark and grainy image is projected.

“Care to explain this? Friday pulled it from a broadcast coming from the cell.” He narrows his eyes at you as you slump down into the swivel chair until only the top of your head shows. “How about you?” Tony gestures to Bucky.

Tony has a laser pointer in his other hand, and he shines the red spotlight on the picture where Bucky’s knees are bent and planted to the ground. The dot trails over his thigh and then over the smaller frame beneath him.

You’re there, arched upward into his torso, legs hooked around his tapered waist, heels digging into his spine. Four of his thick flesh fingers are shoved inside your mouth, pulling your cheek open, and the dim light catches a sliver of your wet tongue. His other forearm is pushed onto your sternum, holding you down.

It looks bad.

It looks like Bucky is dry humping the daylights out of you in an abandoned Hydra facility.

Sam erupts into a screeching laugh when he finally pieces it together, pitching forward until he’s flattened against the wood table. “Ho-Homygod--- This is the best day of my life. Is this the cyanide incident?”

Bucky is red from head to toe.

Natasha rolls her eyes and slides away from the table. “Tony, she ate two cyanide capsules. Barnes was wrestling them out of her mouth.”

Tony stiffens for a moment as he ponders the truth behind her statement. Then, he quirks his head like an owl, flares his nostrils, and stoops beneath the table to find you resembling a boneless pile of flesh.

“Everyone is dismissed.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I wish I could fire you.”

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, the most pathetic noise to ever come from a human being. “But…” You whine pathetically, “I’m legit.”

-

A few nights later, you find yourself sneaking through yet another dusty old hideout. Surprise, surprise, Hydra is bad with maintenance and loves asbestos.

Steve made you an outline of all your tasks on his mission, written in all caps, folded neatly, and shoved it into your back pocket before departure. You skimmed over it on the plane before crumbling it up. The first bullet point had glared: NO CANDY.

Tightass.

You easily clear the wing and dispatch your status to Sam who is waiting patiently in the jet, fingers on the console. Bucky is patrolling the perimeter and you are taking the east side while Redwing zooms through the west.

There have been trip wires (newbie shit) and also surprisingly advanced attempts at entrapment so far (motion sensors, temperature regulated alarms). They’ve all been expertly pulled apart and rewired and you are taking a short break fucking around in the hallway, peering at dusty paintings of – some old dead bald guys. You take a picture of one and send it to Tony, labelled it’s like looking into the future.

Chortling, you continue down the corridor aimlessly until you hear a creak.

The knife in your hand is blade-first and coming down hard on the body sneaking up until— “Oh Barnes!” You cry happily, tucking it back into the strap on your wrist. “Good. You’re here! There’s only one more room—I’ve been crushing it.”

Literally two seconds after you say that, you turn the corner and run face-first into the door. Bucky pauses as if he doesn’t quite register what just happened before slowly reaching forward and gently applying pressure to the handle.

It’s written all over his face: you’re an idiot. You are seriously lacking some brain cells.

He leads the way carefully, swatting cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and taking stock of each corner, rifle pointed forward and alert. Behind him, your boots thump noisily against the floor and a chair is tipped over when your arm crashes into it.

Bucky spins on his heels and catches the chair before it can fall on top of what looks like a very obviously placed … box.

It’s a box.

A giant red box is on the floor, outlined with a square of white tape. Two abnormally unsoiled items in a room made almost entirely out of forty-year old dandruff. Your hands are already on both sides of it before Bucky can knock you out of the way.

“Don’t!” He screams because fucking anything could be under there!

A wild animal! A toxic chemical! A bomb! Snakes, for fuck’s sake! His eyes widen at the fading shadow cast on the floor as you lift the top away. Then, his heart stops beating.

It’s a slice of cake. And a cup of tea. A single slice of vanilla sheet cake neatly decorated with a blush-pink rose and two perfectly piped green leaves. The faint smell of jasmine wafts into the air.

Bucky barrels into you before you get the chance to lick your lips.

“Wilson!” He calls into the comm as you push his face away with an offended yelp, “They’re in the east side—set a trap for us! Get over here and bring your stupid bird too! I swear to God—NO! DO NOT!”

 -

In the hovering Quinjet, Sam Wilson leaps to his feet and swoops out of the cabin, wings folded as he dives. “Come again?!” He taps on the comm wedged inside his left ear, “Barnes!?”

“-- fuck-- gonna—fucking--- stop BITING ME!”

A furious row of explosions blare in Sam’s ear as he banks a sharp left and lands on two feet, tearing his way inside the facility, checking on his wrist all the while. Redwing’s camera is glitching, but he can make out flashes of gunfire and what looks like at least five bodies, not including his two teammates. Bursts of white erupt on the screen and Sam’s heart picks up a tremendous pace before he kicks the door down, pistols out and aimed.

A silence smothers the room before grunting and screaming erupts again over Sam’s shout of, “What is going on in here?!”

-

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact moment I came upon my fellow Avengers,” Sam pauses, waving his hand with a bow at the image projected on the conference room screen.

Friday pulled another image from the broadcast before Sam shot out all the cameras in the facility.

It seems that the previous video of you eating cyanide had been intercepted through a bounced signal from the original recording’s output and those on the other end decided you were enough of a proper imbecile to be tricked by something as simple as a slice of cake.

They weren’t wrong.

Tony’s laser is in Sam’s hand and he points the dot in flashes five times, “Dead dudes. Check.” The dot moves on, landing on two splayed out legs before it runs up the side of Bucky’s body pressed to the concrete. “Barnes. Check.” Bucky shuts his eyes and slams his head into the table. “And… here we have this.”

Sam points to you, bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you lurch forward, one hand outstretched and smeared with frosting while the other holds your torso barely an inch from the ground, paying no mind to the two elbows digging into your stomach. Sam points again to where your crotch is pushed right into Bucky’s face.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve mutters, flushing red, “I wrote you directions for a reason…”  

“Excuse me,” You huff, “Cake is not candy.”

“Really?!” Bucky snaps, “That’s the hill you’re going to die on!? You ran into the door! You knocked over a chair! You looked at the one thing that did not belong in the room and you picked it up even after I told you not to!”

Steve jumps back into the grilling, “And if you would have read the rest of the list—NO FOOD AT ALL was number two!”

“Oh yeah!?” You’re near hysterical now, shrieking at the top of your lungs. Stupid men ganging up on you. “What was number three? No fun!? I’m Captain America and I’m such a tightass--”

Bucky cuts you off, throwing his hands up into the air, “Number three was get the blueprints!”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent as you tuck your hand into the pocket of your pants. “Why didn’t you just say so? I nabbed ‘em as soon as I got in there. Marked off the locations of all the cameras and security alarms—not like that matters since Wilson shot them and I disarmed the rest in the east wing. Also, there were corridors and secret entryways not in the file. It’s on here now.”

Carelessly, you chuck the flash drive from your pocket at Steve and it smacks him in the chest. Sam crosses his arms and cocks his head at you, “Shit. Didn’t know you were all that.”

You frolic to the door, “See ya later!”

Three men watch on in shocked silence as you prance down the hallway, banking a sharp right towards your room. Steve stares from Sam to Bucky and then to the flash drive in his hand.

Sam clucks, “You know what… All things considered… the girl is legit.”

-

He calls your name, bangs on the door with a hard fist and when it cracks open, you peek your head out with tired eyes. “Sup, buttercup?”

“Why are you like this? The cyanide? The cake? You had the flash drive the whole time!”

You shrug off what sounds like an accusation, “I dunno. I’m good at my job.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Barnes!” You scold with a growing grin, “I’m legit! I just… you know. Why put all the pressure on myself when you’re around?”

You snort a little, scratch your tummy underneath an oversized shirt absently, and shrug your shoulders repeatedly like you’re dancing. Bucky narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re an idiot because of me?”

“Yeah, Buck. I know you’ll take care of me.”

He freezes. Feels a sudden swell of heat rush from his chest to the top of his head. Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He closes it. You give him a sleepy grin, leaning on the door and swinging it wide, faltering against the knob with a yelp.

Swiftly, and true to his character, Bucky catches you with one arm.

Hanging from his hold, body twisted around, you look up into his blue eyes. They’re strangely tender, dancing over your face with an inquisitive glimmer.

The moment shatters when Bucky’s gaze stops at your neckline. “Is that—" he frowns, “Is your shirt on backwards?”

You nod. “Uh huh. Inside out too.”

His eyes slip shut. With a sigh, he drops you flat on your back and turns around. “You’re an idiot. I hate you.”

Down the hallway as he stomps off, cursing the moment the thought you were cute or something… he hears your voice calling.

“I’m an idiot— but I’m legit, right? And I’m your idiot, right? Bucky? Bucky!”

Bucky holds back a grin. Flicks you off behind his back. Legit or not, he would never give you the satisfaction of knowing.

-

perm taglist @whothehellisbucky​ @serpentbaby​ @badassbaker​ @alagalaska​ @cake-writes​ @crist1216​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @infinity-saga​ @jamesbarnesthighs​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xoxabs88xox​ @imsoft-barnes​ @momc95​ @typicalangel​ @wretchedgoddess​ @readeity​ @iwannasail​

[honeyhan-123]

The Artist ~ II

Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.

Warnings: Lil’ bit of angst/previous heartbreak

Word Count: 3.2k

AN: Here it is! The next chapter of The Artist! Thank you so much to everyone for their feedback. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get the next chapter out by next Saturday as I have a uni exam on the Friday but I’ll try. 

As usual, a massive thank you to @imanuglywombat​ for the beautiful moodboard and @magdaleneruth​ for being an exceptional beta. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Part One

II. 

Despite the serum making him run hotter than most, harsh temperatures always managed to seep under his skin. The cold wind nipped at Steve, sending a chill down his spine, he’d spent enough time on ice for one lifetime.

Days like these reminded him of those nights, when he’d tuck in next to Bucky. Most of the time they hadn’t been able to afford heating—when things made a turn for the worse, Bucky would crawl in next to him, cocooning him in his arms, sharing his body warmth. 

Steve had struggled for a long time after the first of those nights. A mixture of emotions has swirled inside him and he had no idea what to do, let alone what to think or how to feel about it. He felt lost.

Bucky was his one constant—the one person he could come to, always. Who could he turn to when he, himself, was the catalyst?

Maybe it was wrong by old world sensibilities. He didn’t see it. He didn’t care, not really. Not when the even beating of Bucky’s heart thumped against his back as he drifted into a peaceful slumber.

It was only years later, during the war when Steve had met Peggy and found that same solace that he had realised what it meant. 

Steve shuddered against the wind, curling himself further into his jacket, trying to wrap it around him tighter as though it would help him purge those memories from his mind. 

He heard a sound before he felt the impact—catching  against his chest, it almost clapped against his coat. Digging his hands from his pockets, he grabbed the paper. He could barely make out the heading as the wind kept folding it over, this way and that, obscuring his sight of the blasted thing. 

When he finally managed it, his face broke out into a smile. 

Calling All Art and Wine Lovers. Do you love art? Do you also love wine? Come down to Roman’s Bar for a night of painting with accompanying wines. Entry fee $25. Drinks and easels are supplied but feel free to bring your own. 

He skimmed the rest of the flyer to find the first session was happening Monday night. it would only be painting a fruit bowl or something like that, but for some inexplicable reason Steve felt compelled to go. It almost felt like fate that he’d happened upon that flyer. Not that he put much stock into that.

Maybe he could convince Sam to go with him… maybe Bucky? He had always been interested in Steve’s art back in the day. It might even help him feel more like himself. Steve knew he hadn’t been adjusting very well since coming back from Wakanda, since that conversation. The world still felt so new and different and he hardly trusted himself due to his days as the Winter Soldier.

With his mind made up, Steve strolled through the city streets, a new found warmth blooming in his chest and a smile on his face. 

+

‘I’m not sure, Steve. I was never that good at art like you.’ 

It was Sunday evening that Steve had finally decided to broach the idea of drunken painting with Bucky.

‘You don’t have to be, Bucky! That’s why this is so perfect. I can guarantee you it will be a relaxed night of drinking some wine and painting a couple of pieces of fruit. It’ll be fun.’ Steve could see him mulling over his words, his brows pulled close into a frown. 

‘What if they recognise me, though? That’s a great way to ruin everyone’s night.’ 

‘Bucky.’ Steve clasped a hold of the brunet’s shoulder, forcing him to look into his eyes. ‘Everyone knows it wasn’t you in Vienna and everyone knows you weren’t in control for all those years before.’

It broke his heart to hear his best friend talk so dismissively about himself. He tried not to let it show on his face when Bucky shrugged his hand off of his shoulder. 

‘I think it will be really good for you, getting out, you know? Letting people see the real you. You’re an Avenger, Buck. You can’t hide away forever.’ 

‘I don’t even know who the real me even is anymore.’

‘Then this is a perfect starting point. You can find out if you like drinking wine and painting.’ 

Maybe he was stretching, but he was just so eager to show him the new world. Bucky had to face the fact that if he continued hiding in the shadows, then rumour mill would only continue to turn. 

He was desperate to get his best friend back. Things hadn’t been quite the same since that night. ‘Look, if you hate it, I promise I won’t bug you about going back.’ 

Steve could tell Bucky still wasn’t a hundred percent sold on the idea, but he nodded. ‘Fine I’ll come. Where the hell are you taking me, Rogers?’

+

Despite the near perfect mask Bucky’s face wore, Steve could tell he was nervous. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.’ 

He let out a sigh that turned to a muttered uh huh before stepping forward and pushing open the frosted glass door. 

Steve had no idea what he had been expecting but Roman’s Bar was definitely not it. He couldn’t help but be taken aback. The room was buzzing despite it being a Monday. It looked to be a popular after work hangout for those that lived in the Brooklyn area.

‘Hi there, are you looking for a table for two?’ A handsome man came up to the pair, his voice was deep and flowed like honey. Steve peered at the tag on his chest pocket and read that his name was Miguel. 

‘Uh… I’m sorry. I think there’s been a mistake.’ 

Realisation washed over the man’s face and he nodded in understanding. ‘You’re here for the wine and painting class correct?’ Steve nodded, relieved that he at least wasn’t making a complete fool of himself. ‘Don’t worry, it’s right through here. Most of the painting patrons come in through the side entrance over on J Avenue. I’m sorry for the mistake.’ He led the two men through the heaving crowd and Steve started to get second thoughts. 

He had expected a more elderly crowd, similar to the one at Maxine’s class last week, not young twenty-somethings. Yet when Miguel pushed through a velvet curtain at the back of the room, they were led down a small hallway—Steve could see another door leading out onto the street and assumed this was the entrance Miguel had been talking about. They were led through another frost glass door and he was relieved to see a room much more like the one he had been expecting. 

It was small, cozy, and slightly old fashioned—a complete contrast to the sleek, modern bar he had just left. They’d only just arrived but Steve already felt right at home. Some soothing Jazz was playing from a record player in one corner of the room, completely drowning out the vibing music that had been pumping out on the main floor of the bar.

‘This is Susanne. She’s the lead instructor for tonight. I hope you fine fellows have a pleasant evening.’ As he turned to start heading back to the main room, Steve could have sworn he saw Miguel wink at him and it sent a rush of excitement through him. 

‘Good evening gentlemen. You’re just in time, we were just about to start. The entry fee is $25 each. Will you be paying together or separately?’ Susanne’s voice was soothing and Steve hastily fished a fifty from his pocket. 

‘Together, thank you.’ 

She nodded and took the bill, heading over to a small bar in the back corner of the room. 

‘What can I get for you? Would you like a glass of the house white or red? Other options are available, but at an extra cost.’ 

He shared a look with Bucky before responding. ‘Two of your house reds, thank you.’ 

‘Of course, dearie.’ She pulled two glasses from underneath the counter and uncorked the bottle. The dark red swirled in the glass as she poured.

Steve thanked her again as he and Bucky took their drinks. 

‘If you need a refill at any point just let one of the servers or instructors know. Now it’s nearly eight, so why don’t you grab a seat and we’ll be starting very soon.’ Steve smiled and led Bucky off, searching for a pair of seats together. 

The easels were set up in a semi-circle around a stool with a bowl of fruit. There were only two rows and even though the first wasn’t filled yet, Steve headed for the back row, knowing it would make Bucky more comfortable. 

Once they were all settled in, Steve pulled his sketchbook from his bag and placed it on the easel. Even though the bar had supplied some utensils, he again opted for his own pencils—this time bringing some coloured ones along. 

He could see Bucky’s eyes darting around the room, assessing everything from neighbouring faces to points of entry. It had been so long since he’d been able to rest. Steve just wanted to put him at ease or at least offer him some respite to the memories that plagued him.

He sighed at the thought, having more than enough guilt for them both.

The door swung open, catching Steve’s attention. He felt his jaw go slack at the sight.

There you were. You wore the same button down shirt and jeans as last time and Steve figured they must be your painting clothes. You seemed slightly frantic searching through the crowd, more than relieved to find Susanne as she bustled over to you. 

‘I’m so sorry I’m late. Work was hectic, there’s this big case and–’

Susanne cut you off shaking her head with a smile on her face. ‘You don’t have to apologise, darling. You're hardly late, we haven’t even started yet. Just grab a seat and we’ll begin soon.’ You smiled, graciously handing over some cash before taking a seat in the front next to an elderly lady Steve had noticed earlier. 

‘Oh! Darling you’re here!’ The woman greeted you excitedly, leaning over to give you a slight hug. ‘I was worried something had happened, you’re normally so punctual.’

‘It was work.’

‘Is that boss of yours giving you a hard time again? I honestly don’t understand why you don’t tell him where he can stick it and just quit.’

A melodic laugh escaped your lips and your eyes crinkled slightly. You smiled further as one of the servers approached, carrying a glass of shimmering white wine. You thanked her by name as you took it. 

Clearly you were a regular here. 

‘If only, Gladys… but you of all people know how expensive Brooklyn’s gotten to live in.’ 

She hummed in agreement. ‘It’s nothing like it was in my day. But still, you shouldn’t be stuck behind a desk at a job you hate. You should be out there, showcasing your work. It’s truly remarkable.’

‘I don’t hate my job. Besides, I’ve already been down that road, remember? And failed hard.’ Even in his short time of knowing you, Steve could hear the lie on your voice and felt a pang of sadness for you. ‘That’s what led me to Mr. Barber’s company.’ 

Gladys nodded and before she could respond, Susanne stepped up by the stool. 

‘Hello all and welcome to tonight’s ‘Fine Art and Fine Wine’ class. If everyone has what they need, we should be ready to get started.’ She lifted the red cloth from the table, revealing the bowl beneath. It was a clear glass serving bowl that had blue swirls of ink running through it and inside was an arrangement of autumnal fruits—

Pomegranates. Blood oranges. A passion fruit and some figs, all ornately placed.

At first glance, Steve knew it was a perfect arrangement. It was simple enough that some of the beginners in the class would still be able to manage but had some difficult elements that would offer a challenge for the more seasoned artists. 

Brilliant.

Despite the small fragments of chitchat, Steve quickly lost himself to the sketch—capturing the slight green tinge of the passion fruit or the darker hues of pink from the pomegranates. 

It was so soothing, just being able to sit and draw, occasionally taking sips of his wine. Even Bucky looked relaxed. Well, nearly… It’s as close to the word he could manage these days.

The hours had flown by all too soon. Still. Steve felt fairly proud of what he had achieved. It had been a while since he had worked with colour, but he felt he had done a decent job of it. 

‘So what do you think?’ He asked Bucky as he started packing up the pencils, sorting them neatly into their colours. 

‘It was actually okay. I… I had fun.’ Steve looked about ready to pull a muscle in his face with how hard Bucky’s words had him smiling. ‘Don’t start.

‘I didn’t say a word,’ he defended, hands raised in fealty. ‘You just need to be willing to try and put yourself out there. I know it’s hard, but you’ll always have me.’ 

Maybe it was still too soon. Too fresh after that conversation. 

He quickly averted his gaze back to his drawing. Steve felt a pang in his heart and continued to silently pack up, trying desperately not to think back to that night when Bucky had first returned to the tower.

+

Steve found himself shivering as he stood out on the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to touch down. 

He knew rationally that Bucky still had a long road of recovery ahead of him. He knew this. It didn’t stop Steve from being so relieved to have him here. To have him home.

Maybe this time around, Steve would be the one to be Bucky’s protector. And maybe, once he was ready… If he was ever ready.

Steve hated himself for thinking so selfishly, but he couldn’t help but hold onto that hope. 

Hope that in these new modern times, he and Bucky might actually have a chance. 

He had greeted Bucky and quickly shown him inside, guiding him through the multiple hallways and staircases until they reached his new apartment. 

Steve had made sure it was the one next to his own, wanting him to be as close as possible. He had even gone so far as to temporarily move out of his apartment in Brooklyn for this.

He’d wanted to stick around, help him settle in but when Bucky told him  all he wanted to do was sleep, exhausted from the flight as he was, Steve relented.

Later, they said.

Another day, they said… 

Only that day never came. 

Over the coming weeks, Steve quickly noticed Bucky was avoiding him. 

While he was quiet most of the time with the others, he didn’t find some excuse to leave the room whenever they entered like he did with Steve. At first, he just thought Bucky needed time to adjust. 

He gave him time. 

He gave him space. 

But a couple months down the road, they were well into summer with no mention of the rift between them. 

He made sure to wait him out until he knew with certainty that Bucky was back from dinner with Sam.

When he heard his familiar rustling the next room over, he tried to push away the pain that things had fallen so off course. Steve hadn’t even been to dinner with him yet.

He glanced at the mirror, taking himself in. Despite the heavy bags that lined the underneath of his eyes, he felt that he had managed to look at least a bit presentable. A final nod before heading out for the night. A final breath before blowing his reality to bits.

He pads next door and knocks.

When the answer came swiftly, Bucky didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked as if he’d been expecting him.

‘Come on in.’

 ‘Your head’s gonna combust if you keep all that fire locked up in there. Say your piece and it just might bring you some.’

‘I thought… I thought things were better.’ 

‘Things are better. I’m better. But you—’

‘Then what is it? Tell me what’s going on,’ he begs over him. ‘I can feel you pulling away. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. Please, Buck. Help me understand.’

He was quiet for a beat, just watching Steve come down from getting so worked up. It gave him time to collect himself, collect his thoughts… 

‘I know what you want from me. I take one look at you and I know… but I’m not him.’ Steve looked about ready to argue but Bucky raised his hand, begging to finish. ‘You wanted to understand. I’ll never be the same man I was back then and being around you, being with you? It’s painful, Steve. It’s a constant reminder of what was taken from me and how I’ll never be the same.’ 

‘You can’t say things like that. It’s not true.’

‘Don’t you think it hurts me that I can’t be that for you?’ He gestured all around the room, never wavering. ‘That we could have all of this together and call it a day… Don’t you think I want that rest?’

‘We can work through it. We’ve been through so much together.’ Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, so ready to contest that he doesn’t have to feel the same. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered—he still loved him. ‘We can get through this, too.’

‘Steve…’ Bucky could tell just how painful this was for him but he knew it needed to be said, it needed to be done. ‘There was a time I loved you so much I’d have fought a whole war for you. Love and war… that’s not something you get out of. I’m still fighting.’ 

Face buried in his hands, Steve swiped at the tears that stained his hot and itching cheeks.

‘Please, Buck… don’t say it. I love you. Here and now. I don’t care about the rest of it,’ he murmured desperately into his palms. ‘I love you.’

‘I know.’

Both men sat in their defeat as the confession faded into silence.

‘He’s gone. I can’t be him and we can’t be together. I know it’s hard but please, please, don’t hate me. You mean so much to me.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought just because you were here with me now—it doesn’t mean anything. I could never hate you. And I would never want to see you in pain… But I can’t just leave you, knowing you’re out there alone as me.’ He drags a hand through his hair, looking anywhere else. ‘We were friends, best friends. We could go back to that, couldn’t we?’

‘Of course, punk.’ He clapped his back and hoped it wasn’t too much, too soon. ‘Best friends.’ 

Even as his heart was breaking, Steve managed a small smile. It was a far cry from ideal, but if it kept Bucky in his life, he was prepared to bite the bullet if that’s what it took. 

Despite the smiles and promises, things would never be the same after that. Not really… 

+

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[lomlwintersoldier]

You Know Me {Part 5: Sleepwalking}

Previous parts:  | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Word Count: 3556

Warnings: just some fluffy bucky! mentions of death

Your eyes open to an unfamiliar, sterile, white room. You glance around in confusion; all you remembered was the apartment and...nothing else. You sift through the haze in your mind trying to remember what happened and you glance at your arm. An IV, no doubt pumping morphine or some other painkiller through your veins and you sigh in frustration as you rip it from under your skin, hating the way it makes you feel. You relied on your sharpness, your mind, and with the drug dulling your thoughts, you couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. 

The apartment….the explosion...it all starts to come back to you as your mind becomes more and more alert with each passing second and you vaguely remember Bucky returning to the apartment after his pursuit of the masked attacker, yelling your name and scooping you up in his arms. That was the last thing you remembered, although even that was hazy. 

You figure you’re back at the Avengers compound judging on the futuristic, minimalist decor of the hospital room. Glancing around you, you see doctors, nurses, and agents milling around the hallways, and you press the button in your hand. A few moments later, a nurse comes into the room, a young man. “Oh good, you’re finally awake,” he breathes a sigh of relief and starts checking your vitals. He takes note of your removed IV and gives you a pointed look. “I’m gonna put this back now.” You sigh and nod, extending your arm. Your mind had returned to its sharpness but so had the pain and you could see your heart beating erratically on the monitor. 

“What happened?” Your voice is hoarse and barely louder than a whisper but you don’t feel as bad as you must look. He opens up the tablet in his hands, recording your vitals before replying. 

“The debris that fell on you essentially crushed your torso. You have a collapsed lung, multiple broken ribs and a fractured pelvis, not to mention that you had heavy internal bleeding. We had to put you in a medically induced coma to help you recover.” 

“How long have I been out?” You ask, sitting up slightly.

“Twelve days. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson brought you back after the attack in Barcelona. I’ll notify them that you’re awake.”

You nod and lean back into the pillows, wincing. He starts out the door before looking back at you, staring curiously...suspiciously.

“Most people wouldn’t survive something like that,” he states simply before leaving the room. 

You lean back against your pillows, taken aback by his words, but your mind begins to race a mile a minute. He was right; you should have died so why weren’t you? What made you special for you to survive injuries like that? 

You reach back into your memories trying to find some rhyme or reason, but your mind begins to delve into dangerous territory. You always tried to avoid thinking about your parents but suddenly you wondered if you didn’t know the full story, if they had allowed H.Y.D.R.A. to experiment on you and your sisters. What would that mean?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock and you glance up just as Sam pops his head into your room.

“Hey, Dom.” He gives you a pained smile as he takes a seat on the chair beside you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Been better.” You chuckle. He’s quiet for a moment, looking at your battered body. You must’ve looked like hell, based on the bruises you could see. You didn’t want to wonder what your face looked like. 

“You wanna tell me what happened out there?” Sams expression is neutral, calculating as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he waits for your response.

“Didn’t Bucky tell you?” 

“I want to hear it from you.” You pause for a moment, recollecting your thoughts but you find there’s not much for you to report. You were clueless about who had attacked and how they’d known where you and Bucky were.

“I don’t know. I remember Bucky offering to take first watch and the next thing I know I’m under a shit ton of rubble. The bomb took us out easy.”

“It wasn’t a bomb.”

“What?” You ask quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“We checked the scene once Bucky transported you to safety. There was no evidence of scorch marks, trace residue, shrapnel. There wasn’t even a casing.”

You lean forward, eyes narrowing. “Then what was it?” What could possibly cause that kind of damage without fire?

“That blast didn’t come from a machine.” 

“So where did it come from?” Your eyes narrow as your mind begins to dance around the idea of another superhuman coming for the Avengers. No doubt they’d already thought of that possibility.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Sam sighs.

“What does Bucky think?” You ask, knowing that Bucky surely had his own theories, being a soldier and all; he was smart and surely knew that something else was going on.

“We’re worried they’ve found a way to recreate Tony’s repulsion ray. The effects from the blast was very similar to the kind of damage he could do and Bucky left a few days after we got back to investigate it.”

“He’s gone?” You try not to keep your expression neutral but Sam gives you a strange look before replying.

“Yeah, he is. He’ll be back in a few weeks.”

It’s quiet for a moment as neither of you knows what to say next, but Sam looks at you carefully. 

“I was worried about you, Dom. We all were.” 

You smile. “Thank you, that’s...that’s good to hear.” 

“Get better. We all want you safe; you’re one of us now.” Sam reaches for your arm, squeezing it as he stands. 

You nod, and he heads out the door, leaving you alone again.

You spend two more weeks bedridden in the med bay, and various members of the Avengers had come to visit and check up on you, except for one. Bucky. You didn’t ask anyone about him, but you still swallowed back a lump in your throat every time there was a knock on your door that turned out not to be him. You were worried about him. The Winter Soldier, the enhanced super soldier that could absolutely take care of himself and didn’t need anyone worrying about him, yet still, the longer he stayed away, the more you agonized over his safety. You’re out of the hospital before he comes back but you remain quiet about your concerns to the rest of the team, not letting on that you even cared.

“We advise against you leaving so soon, but you are allowed to remain in the compound. Strictly on rest.” The doctor says as she clicks the rail from your gurney down. “You can’t be doing any sort of dangerous activity for the next four weeks. You had very traumatic injuries, Dominique. Let your body rest.”

“Alright, doc.” You reply, pursing your lips and looking down at your hands. “Let yourself heal.” She emphasizes. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, okay.” You grudgingly agree. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.” 

She gives you a comforting smile before squeezing your shoulder, allowing you to be taken out in a wheelchair by a nurse. He takes you back to your room and although you’d only slept in it for a few nights at most before your mission, you still feel a comforting rush of familiarity when you find yourself among what little you possess and the only comfortable bed you’ve slept in in years. 

You crawl into bed, curling up in the soft sheets before letting sleep overtake you, falling into what you hoped would be a gentle, dreamless sleep. But of course, that’s not what your subconscious intended for you.

“Focus, Dom.” Natasha chastises as her right foot connects with your side, knocking the wind from your chest. You groan and collapse to one knee, right hand clutching at your ribs as you suck in a harsh breath. Natasha circles around you like a vulture waiting to land on its prey, poised to attack with teeth bared.

A growl rips through your lips as you roll to your left, narrowly avoiding Natasha’s fist aimed directly at your face.

“Good!” She compliments you as you hop back on your feet, kicking her twice in the side, but your strikes aren’t nearly as effective. You were holding back.

“Don’t hold back,” Natasha orders through gritted teeth as if she’d read your mind as she parry’s another one of your hits.

You twist and slam your elbow into her side, grabbing her ankle and flipping her onto her back but she catches herself before she hits the ground, using her momentum to jump onto her feet at an inhuman speed. Catching you off guard, Natasha easily grabs you by the throat and slams you backwards to the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs and slamming your head against the mat. You groan as Natasha holds you there, forcing you down longer until finally, she releases your throat, standing up and brushing herself off.

“Get up.” She holds out her hand. Giving her a look, you grudgingly take it.

“You could’ve gone easier,” you mutter as you wipe blood from your mouth.

“You really think H.Y.D.R.A.’s gonna take it easy on you if they ever find you and Amara?” Natasha replies; her tone has taken a dangerous lilt, the one she used when her orders were disobeyed, and you lower your head slightly.

“I’m just saying--”

“They won’t.” Natasha cuts you off. “They will kill her and you, just like they did Nia. You need to be ready for whatever they throw at you, Dom, because you fight like you just did and both of you will be dead faster than you can snap.”

“I’m TRYING, Natasha.” You shoot back exasperatedly as you wipe your face with a towel, the ache in your cheek no doubt a sign of a nasty bruise. “In case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t been around much and we’re still not dead, so give me a little credit.”

Natasha glares at you but the expression dissipates as the words leave your mouth; you were right and she knew it.

“I just want you to be ready,” she mutters contritely. “It’s getting more and more dangerous out there. H.Y.D.R.A. isn’t the biggest baddest monster anymore and I’m worried that now that Fury’s assembling a group of superhumans I won’t be able to protect you anymore.”

“I know,” you sigh, wiping blood from your nose. “But I can do it.”

Natasha sighs and uncharacteristically pulls you into a hug; shocked, it takes you a moment before your arms come around her too and you hold her tightly.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now that I’m gonna be a part of this thing but it’s up to you now to be in charge, call the shots.”

“Don’t worry, Nat.” You pull back, flashing her an arrogant smile. “We’ll be okay. You go be a hero.”

Startling awake, you sit up in your bed, surrounded by darkness. Panting, you glance at the clock on your side table, realizing it’s only been a few hours since you fell asleep. Falling back on your pillows, you try to catch your breath as you stare up at your ceiling. You hated dreams. Hated how they popped up at the most inconvenient of times, hated how they dug up old wounds. You’d learned to live with the ache of loss in your chest but sometimes, sometimes your subconscious just wanted to screw you over.  You swallow back the lump in your throat and force yourself to think of anything except for Natasha and your sisters. It still hurt too much to even open that box. As if knowing you need a distraction, your stomach gives a loud growl. 

Sighing, you climb out of bed and tug on some leggings and a tank top, knowing that mostly everyone was either away on missions or asleep, and you carefully grip the specially designed crutches Bruce had made for you. They created a suspended force field around your legs that took your body weight off your injured pelvis so you could walk easily. It didn’t take away the pain of your broken ribs but you were learning to deal with that too.

You make your way down the hall in complete darkness, walking into the empty kitchen and grabbing some ingredients for pasta since you were so hungry. Surviving on hospital food had not done you well. 

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts as you gather your food that you don’t even hear someone come up behind you, but your neck prickles and you whirl around. Well, as quickly as you can ‘whirl around’ considering your lack of grace due to your crutches. But your gaze fixes on the figure at the door, the tall, muscular outline of a man emerging from the shadows.

“Bucky,” you exclaim, surprised. “When did you get back?”

You try not to look too enthusiastic that he’s back, but the worry that you’d felt for weeks is instantly replaced by relief and contentment as you look at his face, although there’s a deep cut on his cheek that makes your heart twinge. You resist the urge to go up to him and stroke his stubbled skin.

“A couple days ago,” he replies hoarsely. “I can come back later if you....”

“No! No, it’s fine. I’m just making some pasta if you want some?” You say it like a question and you hate how your words turn upwards with uncertainty but to your gratefulness, Bucky smiles as if he wasn’t expecting you to invite him to stay.

“Alright. How can I help?” He says, striding across the room to your side, looking down at the ingredients you’d laid out on the counter. Your lips part slightly in surprise but you quickly recover and clear your throat. 

“Okay, tomatoes and onions need to get chopped. Oh and the zucchini.” You tack on.

Bucky chuckles at your orders but grabs a knife and cutting board, starting on the tomatoes carefully and diligently. It’s almost funny watching him chop vegetables because his fluid motions remind you that he has expert knife handling skills; it was entertaining to see it used in an action as domestic as cutting vegetables. 

You also see his hands, both of them, and for the first time, you get a good look at his metal arm. He normally wore long sleeves and gloves but tonight he’s just in sweatpants and a short sleeve shirt, revealing the black and gold appendage the Wakandans had made for him. The plates shift with his movements and you realize that no matter how small his motions are, the plates move constantly to keep up with his actions; he holds the tomato delicately between his vibranium fingers working quickly and carefully as you fill the pot with water, setting it down on the stove. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he looks up at you earnestly. He puts the chopped tomatoes in a bowl before starting on the onions.

“I’m okay. Just can’t wait to get back out there.” You chuckle bitterly at your predicament. His eyes flick painfully at your battered body and even though you looked a thousand times better than you did two weeks ago, you still moved like every shift hurt you.

“How long until you’re all good again?” His hands continue working but his eyes don’t leave yours and you’re suddenly very aware of how close the two of you are standing to each other, side by side chopping vegetables. 

“They said four weeks.” You mutter, tearing your gaze away from him and grabbing the uncooked pasta box. “I’m technically not even allowed to be out of bed yet but I’m healing fast and Bruce made me these handy things....” You gesture down at the crutches.

He’s quiet for a moment, looking down at the tomatoes as he slowly scoops them into a bowl.

“You know, when it happened, I...I was scared. For you.” His voice is rough, dark, and you hear him trying to contain the emotion in his words.

“Why?” Your reply is small, barely a whisper as your eyes meet his, and the silence holds him there for a moment, waiting for him to say what he wants to.

“You were under a huge pile of debris, Dom. I thought you were dead.”

You resist the urge to ask him why he would care if you died and instead stay quiet, looking down at your own hands as you chop the zucchini into little pieces. 

“Well, thankfully, I’m not.” You reply simply, flashing him a quick smile as you break the moment, trying to keep the conversation light hearted.

The two of you continue to work in silence but it’s not uncomfortable like the other periods of silence you endured with him, you realize. It feels comfortable, like the two of you were okay with just being in each other’s presence, not feeling drawn to talk and when you finish cooking, Bucky makes you sit down while he grabs the bowls. 

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own food.” You protest lightly as he pushes you forward gently by your shoulders, forcing you into a chair.

“Don’t worry, I’m aware. Just let me do it this once.” He placates you as he places the bowl of food in front of you and grabs some utensils before taking the seat beside yours. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the angle hurting your back and spreading pain through your legs as you try to eat. 

“Why don’t we go sit on the couches?” He suggests, standing and swiftly picking up both your bowls. He must’ve been watching you struggle to get comfortable. 

You follow him out to the dark living room, taking a seat on the soft, much more comfortable sofa, watching as he flicks on a light in the corner. He sits down beside you, handing you your food as he reaches for the remote.

“Wanna watch something with me?” 

The two of you settle on a horror movie, an old flick about a haunting in an old church in Romania, and a few minutes in, he grabs one of the blankets hanging over the sofa and spreads it over your legs wordlessly, no doubt feeling the chill in the air himself. You thank him and smile, surprised by how tender and thoughtful he’s been with you tonight. 

It’s not long until the upright position starts to hurt and you kick your feet up on the ottoman, getting more comfortable but as you lay down more, you realize you’re closer to Bucky than you thought you were. His arm skims yours with every breath he takes and you’re becoming more distracted by him than by the movie. But you settle into the couch, watching as the demon dressed like a nun attacks the protagonists, the small lamp in the corner, the only source of light in the room, casts a dim glow over you and Bucky. As time passes, your eyes feel heavier and heavier and every few moments you have to force them open again, but eventually, you give in to sleep, letting yourself slip into the comfortable darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky watches her as she falls asleep, her head lolling a few times as a result of her forcing herself to stay awake before she finally gives in, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. 

His heart skips a beat as the contact surprises him but not unpleasantly so; he actually welcomes it. Her body is warm, and against his better judgement, he drapes his flesh arm over her so she’s tucked into his side, and his hand comes to rest on her waist, fingers spreading over her skin. He shifts her so she’s laying down but that makes it so he has to lay down too and now he’s full on cuddling with her, cradling her small frame against his chest. Her arms are draped across his torso, dangling off the edge of the couch as her soft breaths spread across his shirt.

Abandoning the movie, he stares at her sleeping face, the way her hair falls across her cheeks, and he brushes the strands away from her skin, letting his touch linger for a moment as he cradles her to his chest.

What the hell are you doing, Buck? He thinks to himself, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.

Without waking her, he switches the TV off and carefully scoops her up, doing his best not to wake her, and starts down the hall, turning the light switch off on the way out with his elbow. Her head rests against his chest as he brings her to her room, pushing the door open with his shoulder. He lays her on the bed, pulling the blankets up to her shoulder as she rolls on her side, wrapping her arms and legs around a pillow. 

“Goodnight, Dom.” He whispers as he closes the door with a soft snick. 

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[fanfictionized]

Help Me Help You - Distraction (19/?)

Character: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader / OFC

Chapter summary: Abbie tries to find a way to handle situations back at home while simultaneously dealing with the tension building up between her and Bucky.

Warnings: tension? Fluff

Words: 1.6k

Previous Chapter // Help Me Help You - Masterlist

After that, the next few days went by smoothly. And somehow she hated the silence more than action. Bruce explained to everyone how she and her powers are still affected by her PTSD and that they should handle her with extra care, although they agreed on making her continue working out since she couldn’t bear with that decision and had eventually chimed in:

“What about sports? And Wanda training me?” She was looking around, the other muttering.

“I feel better with it. I-I know that it helps me. I should continue doing that at least.”

“Fine.” Tony agreed “But we’ll decide any further according to Wanda’s impression of your progress.”

“We don’t want you getting into something you’re not ready for.” Steve had said and she had rolled her eyes at that.

She didn’t need to be handled like a freaking baby that couldn’t decide for itself. Never mind take care of itself.

After another nine days of no differences while attempting to get her powers under control, the gas-like black goo still just pouring out of her palms instead of moving where and how she pleased, she has had enough.The fifth crumpled up piece of paper landed inside her trash-can.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked as he walked past her door. He had started to hang out in her room more often, so it didn’t surprise her. Him dropping by as casually as he did.“Nothing.” She hissed and it made her close her eyes, realizing that it sounded… well, not like nothing. He chuckled at her comment, seeing how her head hung between her shoulders, resting on one hand while her other one scribbled words onto paper.

“You think so?” He continued and she finally looked up at him. His blue eyes were gentle, calming even. Although she was on the brink of frustration and throwing everything across the room. Or maybe she’d just let her inner beast out, how about that?

She’d love to see what it had to say about her room’s interior designing.

“Yes.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the blank piece of paper.

He approached her, so close she could feel his warmth at her back and it made her shoulders tense up, goose bumps rising on her neck.“I’m just-” She stammered, trying to find words, but it really wasn’t that complicated to begin with.

“I’m writing a letter to my mom.”“Oh.” He said. There was no surprise, just realization.

She needed her to know that she was fine. Fine for now, the rest would come at a better time since she was not entirely sure about how to tell her what exactly had happened and what it did to her only child.

And apparently it showed since all her previous attempts had already failed.“Yeah…” She replied. This was getting kind of awkward.“That’s a great idea, doll.” There it was,

that damn nickname again.

She hated how much she liked it, although she’d probably never tell him.She turned again to look at him. He was standing so close and once again, his smell hit her. Parts of her room already smelled like him, because he was always sitting all over the damn place when she was just on her bed, trying to read a book or something. Always around her somehow.

Sometimes they wouldn’t even talk, but she’d still enjoy his company.

It reminded her of the dog she had when she was younger. It would do the same exact thing.

And she couldn’t deny that it was really damn cute.

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t know what to write her, though. I don’t know how to tell her- I don’t want to tell her all this.” She sighed deeply as a lump began to close up her throat “I just want her to know that I’m alive. And I’m fine.” She whispered, her voice suddenly not strong enough anymore “Before she does anything stupid.”He spotted the shine of a tear on her cheek as he stood above her and his heart sunk a little deeper inside his chest.

“Hey, doll, listen. She’s gonna be just fine.” He tried to comfort her, his right hand settling on her tensed shoulder, but somehow it tensed up even more at his touch.“Will it though?” She asked, her arms crossing in front of her.

“I’ll probably put her at risk with this anyway.” She was waving that blank paper up in the air.

“Hydra’s probably trying to use anything against me they can find and if I send it to her… I don’t know.” She yammered, her voice sounding like that of a moody child.

“Nothing is going to happen to her.” He assured her. He was lying. He hadn’t though of it before and they were probably still keeping her on their record.

He realized that she was still living with that constant fear of Hydra. They could still be searching for her, trying to get a hold of her again to turn her back.

And with what they knew of her abilities, which was admittedly not a lot, it would be a devastating lost that would threaten all of them.

Her powers though weren’t the only reason.

He couldn’t continue to live with himself if anything happened to her.“How do you know that?” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy.“I just do.” He lied “I worked long enough for those bastards to know their strategy. And they wouldn’t come after her to get to you.”

Wrong.

“You did?” She asked cautiously, her voice very quiet.

He felt his face get hot and nodded.

“Yeah…”

“Okay.” She quickly broke the uncomfortable silence “I believe you.” 

Ouch.

She wiped the tear off her face and stood up rapidly, her chair pushing into his chest and making him huff.“Oh, shit! Sorry.” She gasped as he had bent over to avoid her ramming the chair into his groin. Her lips pressed together as she tried not to laugh at the sight of him.“Are you laughing at me, doll?” He groaned, trying his best to grin at her with the discomfort going through his abdomen.

“No! No, I’m so sorry Bucky, I swear.” She giggled, her hand going to cover his as he was supporting himself with a grip on said chair.He looked down at their hands, then up to her face.

Her tears were gone, a smile spread across her face. Her cheeks were tinted an adorable pink.Her thumb had begun to rub tiny circles into his skin and he swallowed as he felt a sudden rush of adrenaline go through him that made his heart beat painfully fast.She bit her lip before she let go again, leaving tingling fire on his skin.He frowned at her with confusion as she walked past him, turning in the doorframe to face him.

“I need to go …training. With Sam. I’ll… be back later.” She stammered before turning so quickly it made her hair bounce on top of her shoulders and she hopped away, leaving him confused and with his heart beating in his throat.

***

Oh my god.

Was what went through her head over and over again on her way to the gym. Her scalp was stinging with the rush of adrenaline and she entered the room with cheeks so red it made her look like she had already had a workout-session.“Whoa. What’s gotten into you, kiddo?” Sam asked, surprising her by already being there.

She gulped and just shrugged, her voice stuck in her throat for a second.“Nothing. What do you want from me old man, I’m ready to go?” She mocked him and made him raise a judging brow.

She stopped squirming on the spot and rolled her eyes.“’M sorry. I’m just… I’m… motivated.” She came up with.“Yeah, no shit. Alright, how about you give me twenty push-ups.” “What? Come on, I can do better.” “I said give me twenty.”She scoffed, but fulfilled his request, getting back up with her cheeks not any lighter shade of red.“So, and now you could start off by telling me what’s really going on.” He leaned his back against one of the training machines.

She huffed, trying to think of something not too absurd to come up with.“You know; you don’t have to continue training me. I mean I’d get it.” She said and it was not only a nice distraction from the kind of emotion-twisted mess that was really going on inside her. It was also the truth she had been wanting to ask him for since after he had gotten out of bed again.“Oh, can you finally shut up about that, please? I don’t have to jump around in circles either way, that’s what I have you for.” He grinned at her, a hand holding the side of his stomach.

She smiled back at him, one brow raised.“You know that wasn’t payback for you wearing me out, right?”

He threw his head back and laughed, but immediately groaned and clutched his belly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be so hard on you, kiddo. Also I can’t hear your apologies anymore, so shut up and grab that weight over there.”

.

.

.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@humanexile @alt-er-love-er-alt @sam-jae

[gingyboo]

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter4Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

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Chapter 15

Bucky made to dash forward but Sam’s grip on his shoulder made him halt.

“Let him.” Sam said.

Kit was at Nancy’s side in a moment Lifting her to her feet with one arm round her waist. He unlatched the door to the cockpit and helped her onto the Princess Lynette. Bringing her gently below deck he lay her on his sofa. The boat had been Kit’s home for years, yet he’d never let anyone else on board. He kept the curtains shut so the cabin was in permanent gloom, there were no pictures, no personnel items, anyone could have lived there. In truth the boat hadn’t changed much since he’d brought it from the previous owner. Nancy seemed to notice this as she took in her surroundings. Her eyelids fluttering as she steadied her erratic breathing.

“You’re alive?” She posed it as a question, still not sure if he was really there or not.

“Yes.”

“You’re alive.” She cried this time, all the emotion from the past 7 years spilling out of her. She slapped him in the chest as he leaned over her. “You’re alive, you let me think you were dead!” He fell to the floor next to her. “I buried you, I mourned you, and you’ve been here, this whole time.”

“Not the whole time…” he started.

“Oh, now I feel better.” her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Nancy I’m sorry.” Kit pleaded.

“Half the world disappeared you still let me think you were dead.” She carried on, ignoring him.

“Nancy…”

“I almost died!” She exclaimed.

“I know…”

“Everyone came back, and I still hoped you’d be one of them, but you were and I… wait, you knew. How did you know?” She shouted sitting up.

“I… um… I…” he stuttered.

“Who told you?” Her face turned to stone.

“Mum did.” He admitted.

“Mum knew!” She was shouting again. Kit winced at the rise in volume.

“Nancy please, let me explain.” Kit begged.

“Be quick about it.” Nancy warned.

“I had to get away, it was safer for you, mum helped me, and I couldn’t go back after that. There’s been people looking for me the whole time., as soon as I knew they were looking for you I sent Helmut a message, he sent out some feelers to get the Wakandan’s attention, and I knew if you found out any trails would lead to him. In the meantime, you’d be safe with Dad.”

“But Dad didn’t know.” Nancy didn’t think she could bare having been lied to by both her parents. Her mother may be one for deception, but her dad never had been.

“No.”

“You know they broke up?” Her eyebrows shooting up in accusation.

“Yes, but I don’t think I can take all the blame for that.”

“I do.”

“Don’t be a child.” He snapped back.

“Oh really, you don’t think hiding that their dead son was really alive might have put a strain on their relationship.” She said standing up.

“Nancy please…” he tried coming towards her, but she tried to hold him back with a palm to the chest. At least that’s what she’d meant to do. The force of her hand sent him tumbling across the boat. It rocked and swayed and all the blood left Kit’s face.

“What have you done!” He was on his feet again and in front of her in a blink of an eye. Nancy swallowed.

“It’s nothing, it’s okay.” She insisted, turning from him.

“Nancy what’s happened?” He looked her up and down.

“It’s complicated…” she was cut off by Bucky bursting in from the cockpit. He darted to her side. Despite her surprise she found his presence soothing.

“Who are y…” Kit started as Bucky Span to face him. “You!” He pounced on him in an instant. His strength caught Bucky off guard for a moment and Kit flung him against the steps he’d just come down. His hand clapped round his throat, his knee pressing into his chest. Bucky attempted to push him off while Nancy screamed for Kit to stop. She tugged at his shoulder until he loosened his grip.

“What is it with your family and my neck?” Bucky choked out rubbing his throat.

“You don’t talk to her.”

“Are you okay? I heard shouting and the boat was tipping.” He ignored Kit and reached for her hand. She nodded silently. Kit was speechless looking between the two of them.

“You don’t get to decide who I talk to. You know who he is and what we are. Nothing you do will change that.”

“Nancy he’s a killer.” He pleaded.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not going through this again. You lost the right to question my decisions when you abandoned me.” Bucky was staring him down and Nancy could tell it was getting to her brother.

“Tell me what you did to her.” Kit shouted pointing at the super solider.

“He did nothing, it’s just a side effect, the bond between us, I can’t control it.” Nancy insisted.

“No one can know about this Nancy.” Kit grabbed at her desperately, “no one.”

“Kit what’s going on?” Nancy pleaded. Suddenly Sam appeared from the top deck.

“Guys you really need to keep it down, I can hear you from out there.” He announced and Kit spun round

“Who this?” He was shaking now.

“Calm down he’s with us.” Nancy insisted.

“Alright, all of you get down here and stay, we can’t discuss this here.” Kit darted up the steps to the cockpit, moments later the boat came to life. The engine purring beneath their feet. As the boat lurched forward Nancy felt herself fall back onto the sofa. Bucky sat next to her clasping her hand.

“Are we being kidnapped?” Sam asked peeping out of the curtains as they pulled away from the pontoon. Nancy made her way up to the cockpit, but Kit frantically gestured for her to stay down as he steered them out of the harbour.

“What’s going on?” She called over the engine.

“Not here, Nancy!” He snapped back. She retreated and the trio sat, waiting.

They didn’t have to wait very long, the boat moved with surprising speed and kit had them anchored offshore within the hour. Meanwhile the trio stayed below deck, Sam and Bucky bickered. Nancy managed to tune most of it out, Bucky insisting Sam shouldn’t complain as he liked boats and Sam retorting that Bucky shouldn’t have interrupted a siblings argument. Thoughts were swimming around Nancy’s head. She leaned back resting her head on top of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Nancy barely noticed the engine shutting off when Bucky squeezed her had lightly. Kit had reopened the door to the cockpit and called them up to the top deck. The sun beat down on them as the four gathered at the exposed bow of the boat They were anchored in a secluded mooring spot, there were no boats as far as the eye could see. Kit looked around their surroundings before he started talking.

“If Nancy’s got enhanced abilities she’s at risk, I know about Duncan Everett but whatever his motives are these people he’s working with, well, they are only interested in one thing.” He explained.

“What is it they’re interested in?” Sam asked crossing his arms across his chest. Kit looked between his three companions.

“Super humans.” He responded simply. Bucky clenched his fists. “People like us, they keep trying to recreate he original serum,”

“They want to create another Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Not exactly,” Kit turned round looking out to the sea, “They want to create another you.”

“What!” Nancy burst out.

“The Winter Solider I mean,” He turned back to look him in the eye. “I’ve read your file, the brain washing, the assassinations, you were highly effective. Certain persons are trying to recreate that.”

“And you’re a candidate for that?” Nancy asked, her heart dropping.

“Absolutely, and if they find out you have these abilities as well then so will you.” As Kit said this Bucky reached out instinctively, pulling Nancy tight to his side.

“No one’s going to take her.” he said simply to no one in particular, as if he was stating out for the universe to know.

“Agreed.” Kit said.

“Do you know who these people are?” Sam asked.

“They’re everywhere, a global organisation.”

“Hydra?” Sam guessed.

“It’s a possibility.” Kit agreed.

“So, you’ve been hiding from them, all this time?” Nancy’s voice was quiet and cracked.

“Yeah, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but can you understand that?” Kits eyes were watering as Nancy nodded, pushing past Bucky to pull her brother into a tight hug. His arms closed round her. He hadn’t hugged anyone since his fake death and notion caused tears to run down his cheeks. For a moment she was a little girl again and he was her big brother, comforting her in a thunderstorm.

“For the record I’m not letting anyone take you either.” Nancy said defiantly. Kit squeezed her tight again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the harbour three woman circled the spot where the Princess Lynette was supposed to be moored. The tracking device’s trail had gone cold.

“Trails dead in the water. The boats gone. Call it in, we need people up and down the coast, they’ll have to come back to dry land eventually.” One of the woman called to the another whilst the third brought out a small cube holding it up to her eye like a telescope.

“No sign.” The third woman said as the second pulled a phone out of her pocket.

“Well, I think Everett is as useful as he’ll ever be.” The first woman mused. “Have that sorted as well.” She barked the order at the second woman, she froze briefly before nodding.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“They’ll be following us, they’d have followed you here.” Kit looked out to sea again with a sigh. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“Maybe its time to stop running?” Nancy joined him at the boat’s railing. “you also need to tell dad about all of this.” she gestured to him, the boat and it’s fishing equipment.

“I know.”

“And you need to shave.” she laughed poking him in the cheek.

“Guys I hate to break up this reunion, but you were right, they have followed us.” Sam showed them a live feed on his phone, footage from redwing, three hooded figures surrounded Kit’s mooring.

“The Witches.” He explained, then, on seeing the confused expressions on the other’s faces, clarified. “Not actual witches, just a nickname, I ran into them once when I was in Peru, seems they haven’t given up the chase.”

“and they work for possibly Hydra?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Kit agreed.

“Well, we should probably get ready then.” Nancy said, standing up tall looking braver than she felt.

“Nancy no.” Kit ordered. Bucky laughed.

“If that works you’ve got to tell me how you do it.”

“Ha ha, it doesn’t work.” Nancy said making her way back below where her suit sat folded neatly next to Bucky’s single sleeved jacket in his rucksack.