#steve rogers enemies to lovers au

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r; 1

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 4.6k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mentions of death, maybe a little self deprecation

note | The first chapter is here! This is my first time writing here so I already apologize for any errors. I hope you enjoy reading it! Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. Thank you! :)

series masterlist | next chapter

"You cannot sacrifice a stray cat but you are willing to sacrifice me to your brainchild?"

For the last two days, Howard has been following you around like a tail. You tried to focus on your other projects. But your best friend has been pretty consistent with getting on your nerves and asking you to help with his new invention. This is nothing new as you are his assistant and you always lend a hand with his every creation. But this one is no easy task.

"I'm not sacrificing you–"

"Stark, you are asking me to be the first living being to try your time machine,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Do you even know how risky that is?"

Howard sighed and you can see how another idea got into his head, "I'll pay you higher clams. Higher than every man in this lab–"

"Wow, Howard. Money can surely make up for my possible death," you spoke deadpanned.

"You are not going to die! I am not going to screw up. I assure you...” He paused, making you finally look at him. “Y/N, you are the smartest person I know other than myself.”

You rolled your eyes as you tried not to smile at his slightly arrogant statement. Meanwhile, Howard smirked when he saw you biting your lower lip, an indication of you almost smiling. He continued,

“And you are the only one I trust in doing this project. You’re my best friend! I know that you know how important this project is for me. I am sure that you know the reason why I began working for this time machine.”

Setting your papers aside,  you paused and stared at him. You can easily read through his eyes and so he is. You two can even communicate through silent stares and nods. So even though he will not specify his top reason for constructing this time machine, you knew damn well why. He wanted to make some things right.

It took you a minute to speak once again, “Let me think about it more.”

Fortunately, Howard granted you your request to have more time to think. He said that you can leave the laboratory earlier than usual, even adding that you can have a few days off to fully think about it. Typically, you stay with him late since you really enjoy what you do and you don’t have any more things to do back at your spacious apartment. But here you are now, walking your way home, all alone as always.

It’s not like you were never alone before. Growing up, you were an only child. Your father died in the war when you were barely one while you lost your mom to some viral, infectious disease when you reached twelve. Your rich uncle, who was your only left family member, took you under his care until he died six years later. He left all of his inheritance to you and you only. You finished your studies with that, determined to find a career in the future instead of confining yourself to gender norms.

So, you did. You accepted an offer you received from Howard, whom you met and became friends with during college. He asked you to work with him as his assistant for every work he is planning to make in his new Stark Industries. He believed in your potential, unlike other geezers who underestimated you just because of your gender. Because of that, people often mistake the two of you as lovers but you two would always just laugh it off. Howard never seemed to commit while you never found yourself attracted to anyone.

Not until years ago. But that did not work out good too. Especially when you never really had a chance to express your feelings to that person. You think that it was too dramatic to say that the causes of having zero chances are timings and his death two years ago. But that was the truth.

“Good evening, Ms. Y/N!”

You were just opening your apartment with your keys when you heard that familiar, little voice behind you. You looked back and smiled as you spotted Donny with his mom, Susan.

“Oh, good evening, Donny!” you greeted with the same enthusiasm as him. You also smiled at his mother,  “Hi, Susan.”

“Papa rode the train today.” Donny randomly shared.

The six-year-old boy often tells a lot of stories whenever you see each other so you thought it was just one of those. You just responded, “Oh, really? Is he going somewhere?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be back before I knew it.” he slowly frowned.

That’s when you noticed his tear-stained chubby cheeks and little puffed brown eyes. But Susan chuckled before explaining more, “Robert just got sent out of the city for the subject he’s writing for. This little cookie right here did not take it well.”

“Oh, that’s why…” you nodded your head.

“May I ask? Have you had your dinner already?” Susan asked.

You shook your head, “Ah, no. I just came from work. I don’t really plan on–”

“Mama is going to make Jell-O!” Donny interrupted with a smile back on his face.

“Yes. I’m actually making some meatloaf for tonight. I figured you would like to join us since you got home early and Robert is not coming home.”

It did not take you long to answer as you easily accept her offer, “Oh, that sounds good.”

“Yay!” The little boy squealed, even clapping his small hands.

“Great. Dinner will be prepared at six thirty. Please, don’t hesitate to knock.” she quipped before entering their apartment.

You went straight to your kitchen as soon as you got in your unit. Not wanting to go emptyhanded to Susan and Donny’s, you dug in your refrigerator to see what you can bring. Luckily, your eyes landed on the Tupperware of cookie dough you just made two days ago. You were bored then and decided to bake cookies. But just when you were done making the dough, Howard called for you in the lab. Now, you will finally have the chance to bake it. So you set it on the sheet pan in the oven for a good ten minutes. You were excited as it was your uncle’s recipe you decided to follow. Just before the clock strikes six thirty, you were already knocking at your neighbors with a glass container of chocolate chip cookies in your hands.

Susan welcomed you into their household. This is your first time going for dinner in their place even though you have known their small family ever since they moved in a year and a half ago. You are friends with the couple but you never had the time to accept their dinner invite before. She thanked you for the cookies and called her son as you two sat at the prepared dinner table. For the first time in years, you enjoyed dinner in a family-like setting. Donny filled the whole time with his wonderful stories, leaving no silence on the table as he munched on his meatloaf.

“Ms. Y/N, when I grow up, I’m going to be a teacher like you.” he babbles. 

You chuckled, “But Donny, I’m not a teacher.”

“What? But you are smart!” he frowned, shoulders slumped. “Papa said you work with one of the smartest men. What’s his name again– Oh, Howie Stank!”

He grinned like he was proud that he recalled the man’s name. While you and Susan laughed at his innocence.

“Baby, it’s Howard Stark.” his mom corrected him and Donny repeated it slower. Susan continued, “By the way, Ms. Y/N brought us something tonight.”

“What is it? What is it?” Donny asked while shifting excitedly on his chair.

You watched as Susan stood up and reached for the jar of cookies from the kitchen counter. Donny’s eyes were filled with delight as he saw it. He jumps from his seat.

“Cookies!”

But before she hands him a piece of your baked dessert, she uttered,  “Now, what are we going to say to Ms. Y/N?”

The kid ran to you and gave you the most adorable hug you’ve ever received, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Donny.” you smiled.

The night went on. Donny enjoyed the cookies while both you and Susan cleaned up. You insisted on washing the dishes but Susan told you that you can just help her with drying them off with a towel.

“You know, Donny is a real sunshine,” you told her.

Susan smiled at the compliment, “He is everyone’s sunshine. But I guess, you are his favorite. He cannot stop talking when you are around.”

“Oh, please!” you giggled. “Kids are always chatty.”

“And you are the only one who has the patience to sit through Donny’s tales. There was a time his dad even fell asleep while listening to him.” You two laughed.

“Where’s Robert off to anyway?” you asked as you wiped another plate.

“Oh, there’s this event in Manhattan that he was asked to write for. He told me it was an opening of a new business by a socialite there. I forgot the name. But I recalled he told me, it was one of Howard’s old flings.”

You chortled with that, “Oh, I won’t be able to name that socialite. Howard’s list of flings is already above my paygrade.”

“Well, maybe you can change–”

“Please, Susan. If this is another attempt to push my friendship with him further, I am taking back the cookies!” you joked. “We’re just friends and I am his assistant. I do like working with him but that’s it.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. It’s just that you two really work closely with each other. It’s hard not to make news about it. My apologies again.”

After finishing the chore, she offered you coffee before she prepare Donny to sleep. After that, you two continued chatting in their living room.

“But don’t you want to do more?” you asked her out of curiosity since you two went to topics about careers.

“I’m a fuddy-duddy, Y/N. Before I even married Robert, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be a wife at home: cooking different foods, cleaning every corner of the house, and being with my baby for every hour of the day. I am happy I get to do it.” she shared, sipping on her cup. “But we wanted different things, right? I also feel happy seeing women who are in the workplace. Especially seeing career women who are also single.”

Your eyebrow raised, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” She giggled. “I love everything I have and where I am now. But sometimes, I felt like I did it too early.”

You and Susan are both of the same age: twenty-nine, just one step forward to your thirties. Obviously, you two are on different life paths and goals. But you understand what she means.

“This may sound crazy. But if there’s this machine that would take me back to my younger days, I would definitely have to go dancing more in every place I was invited to, Maybe I would fool around more. I was too conscious before to enjoy everything that has been happening. It was my only regret.”

…if there’s this machine that would take me back to my younger days…

That one stuck in you, remembering Howard’s time machine and its purpose. You laid on your bed that night thinking of everything. You asked your best friend for free days to be really alone and have some peace as you went through the pros and cons of this project and you being the first person to try it. You fear what may happen as you will be the test trial. But at the same time, you cannot help but think that you don’t really have much to lose. Yeah, you have money and enough material things. But you are alone in life and you don’t have people to leave anymore unlike Susan with Donny and Robert.

After giving yourself exactly a week, you arrived at work with a clearer mind and decision. Howard was obviously jumpy when you walked into the laboratory mouth shut, wearing your usual work clothes. He tried to be patient as he waited for you to say a word or just a simple greeting. Instead, you turned around and directly locked eyes with him.

“You’re such a pain in the neck, Howard. You know that, right?”

His eyes slowly widened after a few seconds. “Is that your way of saying yes, Y/N?”

You sarcastically let out an exasperated sigh, “Yes. Let’s do this.”

Howard embraced you tightly while whispering endless gratitude. The machine was ninety-five percent done at that point. And instead of asking you to help him, he even gifted you more time on your own. But since it’s you, you still worked with him throughout the remaining process. The only change is you tried to bond more with the only people you bond with other than Howard. For a week, you had dinner with the Smiths, including Robert this time. You also had a picnic with Susan and Donny, where you shared with Susan what you had been planning to do. At first, she told you how equally scary and amazing that is. But in the end, she expressed her support. With Howard’s authorization, you invited the family to the day of the event. You even asked Robert to document everything.

“Okay, what do I need to do again?”

You stood on the platform of the device. You and Howard already went through the plan countless times. But It was unbearable to show unsureness with everything but there is still a big part of you who is confident with this test.

“Just take a shot. But don’t interact with anyone.” Howard handed you the latest model of the polaroid camera.

“Even to one person?”

“Even to one person.” He repeated as an answer.

“How long am I going to stay there?”

“Approximately ten seconds. So, just capture anything you see in front of you.”

“Where am I going again?”

“Same place as now. But seven days ago,” he replied. “Small steps. If that works, we’ll try going on further times and dates.”

You gulped, “Okay.”

Unconsciously, your response sounded like a stressed exhale. You have this weird feeling in your stomach and suddenly, your heart beats louder than anything else. Your hands were both sweaty and a little shaky as you try to compose yourself on the platform. Too distracted with your thoughts, you did not notice Howard walking up to you.

“Y/N, sweetheart…”

His warm hands moved up and down on the side of your arms in an attempt to calm your nerves. He can see that you are nervous even though you won’t say it.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…” you stuttered, shaking your head. “Let’s just do this. It will do great. It will. It will, right?”

You asked your best friend, looking straight into his eyes. You were hoping for confirmation, an assurance rather. You are aware of how dangerous this is. There is no guarantee on what would be the result of this brand new time machine. You just want to help Howard with this by being the first living being to try this prototype. You are giving your full trust to him but hearing a positive answer from the main inventor himself might help you feel a little more relieved in doing this. Even though that answer can be a mix of lies.

“Of course. This one will be a big success, Y/N.” 

“Okay.” you sighed again. You and Howard shared a long, tight hug and you whispered something in his ear, “You better take me back. I have plans on Sunday.”

“For real?” he chuckled, whispering back.

“Some anchor clacker invited to a dance before he leaves on Monday.” you quipped since you tow both know that you don’t really go out on dates with anyone.

“Well, This fella must be an eager beaver. He managed to make you say yes to him.”

“Shut up.” 

You pushed him away as you laughed. Seeing you crack up even a little somehow gave assurance to both of you two. Before going back to the controls, you shared a simple smile and you nods at him. Looking around, you see Robert nodding at you. Susan and Donny waved at you from the viewing glass.

“Okay, on the count of three, you’ll go to another time. I will give you ten seconds to look around. Then, I will get you back. Understood?”

You nodded.

“Good luck, Y/N. 1… 2… 3…”

“Come on, people. Get up.” Tony clapped his hands as he stood up from the table. “Peter can do the dishes later.”

“But Mr. Stark, it’s not my schedule today–” Peter tried to save himself from the said chore but the older man shushed him off.

“Shh! Everyone in the hangar.”

Other avengers left the room like they were ordered to. Sam and Bucky were teasing the hell out of their youngest member, Peter. Wanda and Vision were having their own little world as they walked side by side. Bruce is already in the hangar as he also helped Tony with his new project. Leaving Clint, Natasha, and Steve at the dining table.

“What’s happening?” Steve asked. He was busy for the last four weeks due to solo missions that he did not get ahold of what others were doing.

Natasha answered, “Remember the blueprints he found months ago?”

Steve nods, picturing the time he saw Tony around the compound with a cardboard box, which has Howard’s name on it,  in his hands. He remembered smiling to himself that time because Tony looked like a little kid who found new toys to play with.  It was probably four months ago.

“He figured he will try to recreate one of his father’s works,”  Clint replied this time. “I think he chose to remake his dad’s time machine this time.”

“The time machine?” 

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together as he repeated that. One of the biggest news he heard of ever since he went back from ice was Howard’s attempt at building a time machine back in 1947. Only a few people knew about it as it was kept almost a secret because of its unfortunate result. Although a little number of people only knew it, there are still rumors or theories about what happened. 

Natasha stood up, picked up her plate, and went straight to the sink. She continued talking, “Yeah, Bruce helped on improving some parts of it to avoid what happened a long time ago.”

“You know, to avoid what happened to…” Clint paused.

Steve cannot tell if Barton forgot the name of the last victim of the time machine or if he just doesn’t want to mention it around him. So, Steve decided to end his sentence.

“Y/N.”

He said it at the same second that Natasha just turned off the faucet, making the silence so loud between them three. What made Steve a little mad and confused about this whole time machine thing is how everyone who knows the result agreed to act like it didn’t happen. Like someone like you didn’t go missing. No one knows where you went and no one wants to talk about it. 

Steve tried to make a search by himself in his first few years back from the ice, hoping that one of the rumors was right. A rumor where it was said that you simply changed your name, not wanting to do anything with SSR or Howard Stark anymore, and moved somewhere else to live a simpler life. But that one failed too. He tried and tried. But it always ends up to one thing: nothing. You simply became the world’s biggest hidden mystery.

“Why don’t we go see what happens there?” Natasha broke the silence.

Clint nods and moved from his chair, “Yeah.”

But Steve remained seated in his seat, he was staring at the table. This was not the first time Natasha saw him like this after your name was mentioned. He often turned into a silent, staring-into-nothingness thinking machine when someone tagged your name into the conversation. It happened only a couple of times. Natasha tried to make him open up about it one time but God knows how long Steve takes before trusting someone with his thoughts.

“Steve?”

Steve finally blinked and meet their gaze, “You should go. I’ll just head straight to bed.”

He didn’t wait for their replies and simply left the kitchen shortly after washing his plate. Natasha followed him with her eyes as Steve walked to his room. Clint, on the other hand, shrugged it off and pulled her to the compound’s ample hangar.

Tony, being the most extra person that he is, even prepared decorations and chairs with safe feet away from the time machine he newly built. There’s even a handmade banner– probably made by Peter– that hung behind the machine. 

“Where’s the capsicle?” Tony asked them as they sat on the remaining vacant seats next to Pepper.

“Went to bed early,” Clint answered.

“What? Gosh, that old man–”

Natasha cuts him off before he starts his unnecessary rant, “Just show us your new project.”

“Okay, okay.” Tony rolled his eyes as he walks in front of his own version of a time machine based on his dad’s blueprint. “I’m going to skip any more introductions because I am so excited to show you guys this time machine. Sure, it had issues before. But Dr. Banner right here helped me to modify it. Hopefully, it will work well and this can be the first-ever working time machine ever!”

His enthusiasm was evident on his face. He continued, “So, here's how it will work. The time machine will be powered on and to avoid any living being disappearances like before, I’m going to place this camera on the platform. I’ll set it into timer mode. Bruce will quickly click the controls to send it out. When it gets to another timeline, it will just take a snap of whatever it sees. Then, we will immediately bring it back here.”

“How long will it stay to another time?” Sam asked in the background.

“Roughly five seconds only.” Bruce, who stood near the machine’s controls, replied. “This is literally our first test trial.”

“Any more questions?” Tony asked and everyone in the room just shook their heads. He smiled and stood next to the lever for power on. “By the way, there might be bright flashing light– Please accept the glasses that are being handed out by Ms. Potts.”

Pepper distributed dark shades from the prepared box to everyone. She later sat back down, wearing the same eyewear. The two scientists also wore them. Tony placed both his hands on the big lever next to the controls.

“Okay, let’s start. Switching on the time machine in 3… 2… 1…”

After pulling the heavy lever, a blinding, white light engulfed the whole room.

It was just a blink of an eye.

As you felt a different, cool blow of wind on your face, you slowly opened your eyes, immediately seeing a group of foreign people sitting in front of you. It worked. It worked! Your eyes widened as you realized it. But before you can even click the button on your camera. You realized another thing: everyone is looking at you. You are in a distant timeline and you can tell just based on their fashion. 

Dang nabbit, Y/N. You only have a few seconds. Just take a polaroid.

You clicked the shutter. Its small sound made everything more awkward against the quiet and seemingly shocked crowd. Then, you mentally count down to ten as you wanted to get back to Howard to show him the image.

Five.

“Hello?”

You cocked your head to the man who spoke on the side. He was in the controls with another guy who strangely looks like Howard. Were you in another universe? Was multiverse real? Although shocked, you didn’t react since your best friend advised you to don’t interact with anyone.

Four.

“Miss, can you hear us? Where were you from?”

This time, the Howard-looking guy with the weird goatee asked you the question. You remained quiet.

Three.

“I don’t think she can understand us.”

Two.

But then, someone stood up from the seated group of people. A bearded man with shoulder-length brown hair from the back. He removed his sunglasses and you squinted your eyes to identify him. His piercing steel blue eyes as wide as he spoke,

“Dr. Y/N?”

No. No. No! This cannot be real!

One.

“Sergeant Barnes?!”

You immediately covered your mouth as you unintentionally called his name at loud. Gasps and inaudible whispers followed.  You held the polaroid camera in your chest tighter when you see some of them standing. 

Why is he here? He fell from a train during a mission with the Howling Commandos a couple of years ago. Steve saw it himself.

“Wait, you are Dr. Y/N, Howard Stark’s assistant?!” A teenage boy asked and everyone turned to you, waiting for you to say something again.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you took a step back when you noticed the time on your gold wristwatch. Suddenly, there is a drop in your stomach. You watch as the smaller hand ticks, indicating that a minute had passed.

Damn it. 

As if on cue, your camera spews a polaroid picture you took not long ago. Your heartbeats went faster and it was like you were drowning underwater. Sweats formed on your forehead. Your fingers shake. What is happening?

“I’m calling Cap.” you heard someone say and ran out of the room.

“C-Cap?” you stuttered, voice shaking. You prayed that they were talking about someone else as the only person you called Cap was already dead too. Out of desperation and fear, you looked at the two guys standing near what seems to be the controls. “Bring me back!”

You see them panicking as they click on the various buttons. The other one pulled down the large lever and everyone screamed as there were booming sounds and sparks everywhere. Your knees were on the ground as you smelled the smoke. You were starting to feel lightheaded. Your vision was slightly blurry but you can still see people leave the room.

“Oh my god. Let’s go.” A woman with long auburn hair walked to you. 

“But I–” you were pointing at the smoking time machine before another spark happened. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. They’ll fix it. For now, we should go.” she replied and you accepted her hand.

Your knees were weak as you stood up, almost falling again. But another woman stood next to you holding you up by the waist. They assist you, walking you out.

“A-Am I dead?” 

Your feeble voice whispered. But they didn’t seem to hear you. Incoming heavy footsteps were heard.

“Where is she?”

That voice was like a snap in your brain. Like memories played in your head the moment you heard that deep voice. You know that voice. God, you missed that voice. You felt like crying with all the overwhelming emotions mixing in your system. But instead, you gulped and collected all the remaining sanity in you to look up to the guy coming. 

“S-Steve?!” 

You called his name so frail but it didn’t hide the fact that you were surprised to see him. You see his lips move but you cannot hear anything anymore as everything turned dark.

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST [open. please make sure your account can be mentioned :)]

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[fluffysucker]

Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

In no world were you meant to be together, but in every universe, you were meant for each other.

A/N: I present you grumpy sunshine wrapped in enemies(ish) to lovers with Beefy Boxer/Biker Bucky.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated.

Also, I tried to be as inclusive as possible. But my delusion couldn't be controlled I'm sorry.

Ngl this is for me more than anything.

Also, I'm thinking about making this its own universe and maybe write more of it. Tell me what you think

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You hated Bucky Barnes, and he hated you.

The two of you should have never crossed paths. Your worlds should have never met. But the wall separating you could only hold for so long.

The infamous boxer was a phenomenon in his field. Unbeatable and astute, Bucky Barnes held his reputation with pride. He was stronger than all and the smartest the game had. His jab was as numbing as the winter. His techniques were as calculated as a soldier's. Bucky Barnes was as hard as nails. A legend.

To keep up with the notoriety, it was rumoured that Barnes and his team were also a biker gang. It was never confirmed, but the black leather jacket he always had on, the long hair touching his shoulder or tidied in a low bun, the motorbike barked in front of the gym, and the intimidating sense lingering around him. It was never denied, either.

In the mornings, Bucky Barnes ran a successful gym with his two bestfriends, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both played occasionally, but only Bucky was the professional, so they were more his trainers. They also trained other players and armatures. They tried to gain other normal customers, but it didn't always work. With a reputation like theirs, attracting customers wasn't easy.

It was usually the same for nights, unless they had matches. Most of their fights were held on Stark's property. He ran an empire, and boxing was the dominant centre, led by the biggest champion. And Stark lets Bucky have it his way, just like he likes. As long as Bucky keeps on bringing these huge numbers into their pockets, both are happy and content.

So it was out of the nature for Bucky to have zero interest in the new restaurant that opened up right next door to the gym. They had their regularly frequented places. The bar run by Romanoff and Belova, a couple of blocks away from Stark's property, was more than enough. He didn't even bother to throw a glance at it. Even after he knew that the owner had come by and given out menus and promised them discounts if they stopped by, there was still nothing.

Until one night. Bucky got carried away in training. He had an important match coming up. He knew his opponent barely stood a chance, but Bucky enjoyed the thriller of the game. The sweat and blood that go into it He didn't remember a time when he didn't want to do this. It was like it was programmed so deeply in his brain. He was made for this.

Everyone left, one by one. Until then, it was only him. After so many hours, he finally got tired. He threw his gloves aside and went to take a shower to remove the evidence of his hard work before going back home. As he was locking the gym's door, he heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he needed food. He was starving. Before deciding to wait and order food once he got home, the big sign caught his eye. They did indeed have a restaurant right next door. He admitted he was too tired to cook or wait for delivery. He needed food, then crashed into his bed. So maybe the closest restaurant would be useful.

Once he stepped in, he felt out of place immediately. His dark clothes and huge frame made him look like a stranger compared to the light-coloured painted walls. Some had flowers, and others had stars drawn on them. There were fairy lights in some corners. The aromatic scent was everywhere. Bucky almost winced at how bright and colourful everything felt. This was an alternative universe that he didn't belong in.

"Hi, how can I help you?" An even sweeter voice rang and caught Bucky's attention, breaking him from his trance of observing the place.

He turned around to find the prettiest girl he had ever seen standing behind the counter. Your beauty caught him off guard. He never believed someone could be so beautiful before. But here you were, standing. Taking his breath away.

He recovered very quickly and moved to stand in front of the counter. With the most loving smile, you handed him the menu. He took a look at the menu and wanted to laugh out loud. Dish names were just as cheerful as the atmosphere.

Out of habit, you started explaining and recommending stuff for him. He interrupted you, putting in his order. You didn't give it much thought but took his order happily.

You apologised for the lack of waiters, as it was almost closing time and it was only you. No answer. With his blank stare, you told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Only then did he notice the empty restaurant. It was just you and him. It was that late. So he took a seat at the nearest table.

Not taking much, you returned with his order. You placed it in front of him with a big smile on your face. You knew right away who that was the minute he walked in. James Barnes. The famous boxer who trains next door You have been praying after your small visit to them that they would be regular customers. The business was doing great. But the more, the merer. Always. Lots of people warned you about the men next door. But you didn't feel like they were as bad as people made them out to be. You were always so trusting, unless shown otherwise. So you were happy that, finally, one of them stopped by.

You moved away, letting him enjoy his food. Unable to fight your nature, you started talking to him as you continued cleaning the remaining parts of the place. No answer again. He didn't even bother to look at you. Okay. Maybe he had a rough day. Not all people are used to chatting.

Bucky was one of these people. His eyes widened as you started talking to him. People were never that friendly to him. People avoided him. Nobody tried to open up a conversation with him. He didn't know how to react. And he was too tired to try. So he practiced his other specialty. Silence. But even if he wouldn't admit it, Bucky found your voice calming. So he let you talk instead of just shutting you up.

You reduced your talking to a minimum. Only little remarks there and then to avoid complete silence. The second time, you heard his voice since he walked in and asked for the check. You brought the paper to the table he occupied, keeping your smile up and telling him that he got the 'neighbour discount' as you called it. You almost heard his scoff as you left him.

You had your back to the door, so you only turned around when you heard the door close. You didn't hear his footsteps, and most definitely, you didn't hear his goodbye, goodnight, or even thank you. Now that's rude.

You returned to the table to collect the check. But you found the review note you attached to every check empty. Not a single penmark. And that was more rude. You made sure that filling out the note only took seconds. You genuinely cared to hear people's opinions so you could be better and have the restaurant grow more.

So he didn't speak to you for more than two sentences. Didn't say thank you or goodbye. Didn't fill in the note. Okay, maybe you didn't want them as customers if they were all that rude.

It turns out they weren't that rude. However, Bucky was more rude than you thought.

A couple of days after Bucky's visit, you were surprised to see Bucky with another two men. You guessed they were Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The trio was all well-known. You doubted if Bucky was the one to recommend the restaurant. You weren't sure if he even liked the food. And you were right. He would be caught dead if he brought up the fairy world you called a restaurant. Even when it served the tastiest food he had ever had,

It was a slow day. No intense training or excessive fight preparation The three men didn't have much to do that day. So when Steve suggested trying out the restaurant, Bucky neither objected nor showed excitement.

So when they walked in, you couldn't help the feeling of surprise along with the tiny bit of happiness, hoping it would be a nicer visit this time. After preparing their orders and sending them out, you waited for a bit before you left the kitchen to greet them. Not before making sure you looked presentable.

With the small space and their loud voices, it wasn't hard to locate them. You approached them with a big smile and positive attitude.

"I wanted to make sure you were having a good time." You followed up after introducing yourself.

"The food is amazing. This burger is to die for." Steve was the first to compliment you, with Sam nodding and agreeing.

"You have one good chef." Sam added as he took another french fry into his mouth. "Send my regards to them."

"Actually, I'm also the chef." The statement caused a shocked expression to fill in their faces. They asked for details, and you briefly told them how you were the core of the small business as the owner and main chef.

The two men were polite, and they didn't seem annoyed by your chatty personality. In fact, they interacted with you and asked questions to learn more. And all they had to say were nice compliments. Except one.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what was the inspiration for the place? Was it a fairy garden or Disney's latest cartoon?" None of you were ready for the sarcastic comment Bucky threw at you.

You didn't let your smile break in the face of his sarcasm. Nor did you give much thought to the pet name. You put on a bigger smile now, looking at him.

"A bit of both." That's one thing about you: you refused to let the world change about you. You never reciprocate rudeness with rudeness.

"I can tell." Bucky was taken back by your response. He expected you to get offended, but you didn't.

"Thank you. It was my vision all along." You replied, your smile never leaving your face.

And that started your hate relationship with Bucky Barnes.

After that day, the men became regular customers. And it wasn't just the three men. Little by little, it was most of the team. First, it was just to try the good food. Then it was because they wanted to. They wouldn't admit it, but your place was like a breath of fresh air. Something so different from what they are used to. From what they are known for. From what people expected from them. And you never judged them, treated them differently, or asked about the rumours that followed them. So it was a calm change, but much needed.

But their favourite thing was yours and Bucky's constant bickering. Or more Bucky's. Nobody understood why Bucky was doing this. You never partook in his constant attempts to make fun of you. You always had a sweet response to fire back. You truly were the living embodiment of killing them with kindness.

However, he never stopped. Every time he stepped foot in the place, you claimed it was your biggest achievement. He had something rude to say. Something to annoy you with. Something to bother you. Sarcasm and jokes spilling out of him with no end whatsoever.

The number of times you wanted to punch him or snap at him right back was increasing. But you refused to give in. To let him win. He wouldn't be the one to change you. So you kept engaging with him only with gracious things to say.

Besides, you chose to think that everyone had their own battles and demons. And for sure, Bucky looked like he had lots of them. He looked rougher than most. His job made him appear invincible, but he wasn't. Nobody was. So he may drive you mad, but he deserves the gentle treatment you offered all.

Bucky had no idea why he was doing it. Why every time he saw you, he felt the urge to tease you. It wasn't like him. But he didn't fight it back.

"How are you, Tinkerbell?"

"You should buy green carpets. It will finish off the garden aesthetic."

"Here is the princess who got lost."

"The pasta was great, Barbie."

Stuff like this flew from him all the time. And not once did you get back at him. You stayed nice and polite. Your sweet self never crumbling.

There was something in you that drove him insane. Your warm eyes. Your bright smile. Your cheerful voice. Your positive mindset. Your kind heart. Your friendly nature. Your hard work. Your delicious food. Your colourful wardrobe of dresses, skirts, tops, and cardigans. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was all of it.

The deepest part of him knew why he was doing this. He liked you. He liked you so much. From the moment he entered your restaurant alone, the first time And the more he knew you, the more he liked you. You were special. And you were everything he wasn't. He thought if he got closer, he would be tinting you. He would bring darkness to your shine. A moral thing preventing him from speaking his truth. even thinking about it.

So he acted like a teenager. He made fun of you. In hopes of making you hate him. He convinced himself and the others that he didn't like your sunshine personality.

Until one day

It started off like any normal day. Bucky had a match coming up. So they all had something to do. The day was going fine. Up before Peter Parker, who was usually on reception duties, ran in and said there was fire in your place,

For a second, blood ran cold in Bucky's body. He heard ringing in his ears. Were you okay? He collected himself quickly, wanting to check for himself.

He threw the gloves away, almost pushing everybody out of the way to get out. And he was the first to see the chaos in the street. A firetruck was parked, and firemen were going in and out of your restaurant along with some policemen. His eyes were searching for you frantically until he spotted you.

You had some dust on your face and your white clothes. You were checking that everyone was okay and out safely. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips or your shaking body.

He couldn't help himself as he ran towards you. You turned as you felt someone approaching you. Without your control, your face softened, and tears blurred your sight once you noticed who it was.

"Bucky." You whispered as a way to ground yourself from all the mess that happened and is still happening.

Following his first instincts, Bucky pulled you into his chest, wrapping your trembling form in his arms and holding you so close to him. And the dam broke.

Sobs fled from you. Tears mixed with his sweat. Your fists gripped his white tank top. Your face hidden away in his chest.

You didn't know how it happened. You had been holding up well enough during it all. You had been managing the situation the best you could. However, when Bucky got here, your mind stopped working. Your mind gave up on you, letting your emotions hit you with full force, breaking down your bastion with no guarantee you would be caught.

But you were. You were braced by strong amrs, rubbing your back, laying small kisses on your hair, and whispering words of comfort in your ears. "I'm here. I'm right here." "You're okay. You're fine."

Your sobs ceased, but your body still shook against Bucky's. Tears remained to fall freely on your face. Bucky's hold was still firm but secure around you.

You only moved away from him when a policeman approached you, informing you that you were needed at the police station.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky's stern voice left no room for negotiation. It wasn't up to debate. He wasn't leaving you.

"I'll grab my stuff in a second." He turned to the policeman standing in front of you, making sure it was okay that he joined. And he got a nod of approval in return.

He left your side, walking towards the gym. He paid no attention to his friends standing by, who were puzzled by the encounter. And true to his words, he came back in seconds, his black leather jacket on, phone in hand, and wallet in hand.

He got to you, letting his hand wrap around your shoulder. The gesture was welcomed by you as you rested your head on his chest. Something about having Bucky spread calmness in you

At the police station, Bucky found out what really happened. It wasn't just fire. It was a robbery. A bunch of armed men attacked your restaurant, demanding money from you and all the people inside. As you are trying to handle the situation without panicking more, it was discovered that one of the customers was a cop, which sent the robbers into an unexpected turn. So they took all they could from the cash register and your own things before setting the kitchen on fire to run away without being caught.

Between talking with the insurance company, the bank, and watching security footage from your restaurants and the street, you spent the rest of the day in the station.

And Bucky didn't leave your side for a second of it.

He didn't leave you until you both got out of the cap in front of your apartment. And he didn't leave until he made sure you got inside safely.

Something about you being hurt sent Bucky into a spiral. Who was heartless enough to hurt such a sweet soul as you? To look at you and not want to give you everything? Bucky would never know. All he knew was that he never wanted to see you so afraid and shaken like today. To not see your smile lighting up your face. So he would do whatever it took to make sure you were always fine.

Which was why you found him by your building the first thing in the morning.

"You have lots of places to go today. Said I would join you."

And up until you were handed the keys to your restaurant brand new after the insurance company had finished the repairs, Bucky didn't leave you. He was always there. Helping you finish papers, going to the police station to identify the robbers, and buying new stuff for the restaurants. Everything. He was there for everything.

And you had to admit. It was lovely to have him. A helping hand you needed. Physically and emotionally. Someone to share this unfortunate journey with. And Bucky didn't bother it for a bit. And you appreciated having him.

So, it only felt right for him to be your first order after the reopening.

The truth was, you never hated Bucky, no matter how much you tried. His huge form, his steel blue eyes, his signature stare, his playful smirk. They all made you feel something. He made you feel something you couldn't quite understand. But it was a pleasant something. He annoyed you so much, but you never took it too seriously. Maybe he hated you, but you didn't.

Now, you didn't need him. You were ready to carry on with your life. He didn't know how to get back to normal. He couldn't. He couldn't pretend you didn't make his heart beat faster. You made his days better. But he was so unworthy of you. And he knew you could never look at him. Maybe you hated him, but he didn't.

He tried to get back to his life. Only training and matches. Only visiting your place with the others who quickly figured out what was happening. He needed to get you out of his mind. That lasted for two days.

When Bucky was closing the gym, he heard something coming from your restaurant. With a frown, he moved to see you still inside. He looked at his watch to check the time again. It was indeed late.

"What are you doing?" He didn't bother with greetings as he entered.

"Hi, Bucky." Your cheerful voice rang through the empty place.

"What are you doing?" He repeated his question, looking at the paper in front of you.

"I'm sending out advertisements and deal offerings to different places." You answered him with a smile.

"Sweetheart, do you know what time it's?" Bucky signed as he looked at you, looking clueless.

"C'mon, let's get you home." He moved towards you, taking the papers out of your hand and putting them down without messing them.

"But I have a lot to do." You tried to protest as he gathered your stuff and helped you out.

"It will still be here in the morning." And he was having none of it.

"I need to get the business going." You added.

"You can do that in the morning, too." Bucky led you out of the restaurant in spite of your complaining.

He took the key from your hand and handed it back to you after he closed up. You expected him to move away, but he didn't.

"How are you going to get home?" He hoped you wouldn't give him the answer he had in mind.

"It's not very far. I was going to walk." And it was it.

Do you not care about your safety, or do you think you are James Bond?

Bucky had to bite his tongue and not scold you right on the spot. He knew you were stressed about the business, so he didn't want to add more.

"Great. I was going somewhere there, too. Let me walk."

"You were?" You questioned him, not believing him, but he nodded quickly.

As a matter of fact, Bucky didn't have anywhere to go other than collapsing on his bed. But over his dead body were you going to walk back home alone in this hour

"Lead the way, princess." The return of the name, but a smile on your face. He may mean it as an insult. You didn't care. It sounded good coming from him.

And the two of you walked.

And somehow, without planning, it became a routine.

Bucky would finish at the gym and come straight to the restaurant. It didn't matter whether it was late or not. He would get in and wait till you were done with the day. Then he would walk you home. Sometimes, he would help with stuff, but most times, you would make him sit down and bring him tonnes of food you prepared just for him.

"You train so hard. Don't want to burn these muscles. Eat and rest."

You weren't stupid. You knew he had nothing to do with where you were living. Yet he still chose to go out of his way, walk you home, and wait until you got in. He was taking care of you. So you wanted to take care of him too.

It felt strange to Bucky. Nobody made sure if he was eating well enough, drinking enough water, and resting enough. Nobody ever did. Everybody treated him like he was a machine. Like he He needed nothing.

Then there you were. Feeding him with delicious food. Letting him relax. Laughing at his jokes. Your hands grazing softly. It was all foreign to him, but very welcome. And he was getting attached. He knew it. How could he not?

He had the sweetest and most loving person on the planet, showing him attention and care.

Bucky counted the minutes until he could be with you. Until he could walk you home, it would be just the two of you. You did most of the talking, telling him about your day or an interesting story you heard. He would tell you briefly about his day.

He loved listening to you. Every detail you shared with him. You were the first in his life to be carefree around him other than his family. You didn't let his stiff demeanour affect your friendly one.

The extra time he spent back to his place from yours didn't bother him in the slightest. He found it reassuring that he knew for sure you were safe at home. It was all worth it.

Every single one of Bucky's friends knew what was happening from the moment he asked to postpone a match to go somewhere with you when you're repairing the restaurant. And it became so clear when he stopped hanging out at Natasha's bar after matches, claiming he was tired. But, in truth, he only wanted to be with you. And the days he knew he couldn't turn it down, especially after a grand victory, he would be glued to his phone until you texted him that you were home. Then he may start celebrating.

Bucky almost punched Steve in the face when he brought up inviting you to one of the matches, or at least to hang out with the whole team at Natasha's bar. Bucky wanted you nowhere near this world. He couldn't imagine you watching him while he was fighting. You would never look at him again. Yes, you were kind, but in the ring, he was a beast. You didn't deserve to see how bad he could be.

That's why he never acted on his feelings for you. He knew he was falling for you. He knew from the start. But you deserved better. So much better.

Your radiant nature had no place near him.

He even tried to stop seeing you, feeling guilty for ever getting close to you. But he failed miserably. You gave him something nobody did. A light in the darkness.

So he bottled it and felt grateful that you even let him be your friend. Or whatever you were.

Before a fact came crushing. You were single.

The days following matches were usually very slow. So he left earlier than usual just to come and wait for you. As long as you wanted. He had a bandage on his forehead and a compression bandage around his hand.

Sometimes you forget what his job was. Until he shows up bruised and bandaged like this. You knew he was strong enough to handle himself. He was the best in the game. But you couldn't help the twinge of your heart at the thought of him hurt.

So you prepared extra food and drinks for him. Once it was evening, you kept your best table for him. You even brought the air freshener with the scent; he commented once that he liked it. Everything to help him relax.

You kept telling yourself you were only doing this because he liked to help everyone. But you knew it was very different. He was very different.

So when he stepped in, your big smile got bigger.

You tried to come and talk with him whenever you could, but it was a busy day. He had no problem. He enjoyed watching you work. You were so dedicated and smart. He wanted you to be the most successful chef and owner in the world.

But maybe he shouldn't have been watching. He should have paid attention to anything else. So he wouldn't have seen the man who had been flirting with you since he walked in.

It was taking everything in Bucky to not get up and throw the guy away. But he heard it. Your answer to his question "Yes, I'm single." And he was reminded of the cruelty of the world. You weren't his. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have been biting the inside of his mouth when the guy tried to touch your hand as you handed him his bill.

And he most definitely shouldn't be feeling like crying and burning down the world when the guy asked you out and left his number.

Wasn't that what he wanted? For you to have better than him. To have someone who wasn't surrounded by blood and pain. Someone who wouldn't defile your glimmer That guy looked decent enough. Maybe that was your chance to find love.

However, he wanted to tear that paper to pieces. He wanted to punch the guy for asking his girl. But you weren't his girl.

Bucky was conflicted by his emotions. He didn't know what to feel or how to think. So he did the thing he was the best at. He stayed silent.

You noticed right away the change in his mood. He wasn't the most talkative person, but this silence was different. He looked like he was somewhere else. Somewhere, that wasn't so nice.

"Are you sure that you are fine?" You asked as you came to a stop in front of your building.

You only got a nod as an answer.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm always going to be here."

Your words finally made him look at you after you left the restaurant.

"You are?" His hesitant tone made you frown.

"Of course." You answered very quickly.

"Are you going to go out with this guy?" It was quiet; you almost missed it, but you didn't.

Bucky didn't know what happened. He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't. It fell from him.

"Do you want me to?" Your reply was something he didn't expect at all.

You couldn't say you weren't disappointed when Bucky did nothing when the guy started flirting with you. You didn't know what you wanted him to do. But you wanted him to do something.

Instinctively, Bucky moved closer to you, standing right in front of you.

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me why I shouldn't go out with him."

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. You were so close to each other. His blue eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were filled with something so warm that you couldn't quite figure it out.

Bucky didn't know how to answer your question. Why didn't he want you to go out with the guy? Well, he didn't want you to go out with any guy. So he threw caution to the wind and followed his heart.

You almost tripped, but his hands on your waist steadied you. The feeling of his lips on yours was something out of the world. His lips were a bit bruised, but they were soft. It was all so good that your mind stopped working.

Bucky was about to pull away and apologise profoundly when you didn't kiss him back. As he was about to move, your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

The kiss was gentle, and it was filled with emotions. Loving ones. It sent electricity through your bodies. It spread warmth all over you.

Your need for oxygen made you break the kiss, hands still around each other, eyes only looking at each other.

"I thought you hated me."

"Never did. Not for a second, princess."

Bucky's lips smashed against yours once again. And it was like every piece was falling into its place. The puzzle was completed. The rainbow after the rain

You were the shining star in Bucky's dark sky. He may not deserve you, but he was going to do everything in his power to get you to shine more.

Because you were made for each other.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take). 

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?” 

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go. 

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.” 

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout. 

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?” 

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen. 

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body. 

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.” 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?” 

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.” 

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue  “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.” 

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains. 

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch. 

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway. 

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?” 

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.” 

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.” 

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?” 

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?” 

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay. 

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?” 

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?” 

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods. 

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here? 

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out. 

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*To anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

This has been a fill for:

@anyfandomdarkbingo

Card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square N3: Body Swap

@matchat3a @bethexo07

[saratinz]

Maneater (Masterlist)

pairing ➩ Ex!Bucky Barnes x Promiscuous!Reader (College AU)

series warnings ➩ drinking, asshole!Bucky, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, love triangle, smut, slut shaming, cursing

synopsis ➩ An enemies to lovers story.

word count ➩ 9k

a/n ➩ updates every night at 12 a.m. (edt)

Prologue (April 4, 2023)

Chapter 1 (April 5, 2023)

Chapter 2 (April 6, 2023)

Chapter 3 (April 7, 2023)

Chapter 4 (April 8, 2023)

Chapter 5 (April 9, 2023)

Chapter 6 (April 10, 2023)

Chapter 7 (April 11, 2023)

Chapter 8 (April 12, 2023)

Chapter 9 (April 13, 2023)

[darsynia]

Ro Roll Masterlist

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST

It is my BESTIE'S BIRTHDAY and I have done something silly and outrageous. You see, @ronearoundblindly LOVES the song Never Gonna Give You Up. So I decided to write her 7 stories, one for each of the syllables in that first phrase.

It's a celebration of friendship, of blatant ridiculousness, and most of all, the characters we both know and love! Thanks for coming along!!

NEw Nomad Steve/nurse!fReader first kiss

adVERsarial Bucky/mechanic!fReader soulmate AU

draGONfly MCU Steve/wizard!fReader fantasy AU

banaNA Steve/f!Reader established relationship smut

forGIVEn

joYOUs

sUPine

It's been an honor and a delight being your friend!

[rogerswifesblog]

Story idea!

@jamneuromain are working on a little story (it was mostly her amazing idea that we continued to vent about till it became a wip) but we need a title for it! We have come up with some ideas. And it’s up to you which will be the final title!

All you need to know about the story: enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, injuries and amnesia!

Okay, okay, here’s also the real summary:

This is not how you envisioned your day: Waking up at a hospital with a head injury, surrounded by strange people, and of course, you are desperate to go home.

Wait, where is your home? And more importantly, who are you??

Luckily, you have a dutiful (and handsome) fiance who expresses his regret and worry that you fell. On your head. Thus, all your memories are gone.

Amnesia is a bad thing, isn't it?

Too bad you didn’t remember you never had a fiancé.

Now to the titles

[simsamsum2023]

Intertwined - Masterlist

Series Plot: You and Loki are bound together as soulmates through the red string of fate. Even though he's a villain, you are tied by destiny. You are also given poems that are recited for your ears only. They're there to help you figure out who your connected with along the way.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader (Eventually) Steve Rogers x Female Reader (For some time)

Warnings: Smut (Not the best at it but I am trying), language, violence (Maybe more warnings later on but will add to this later on so keep checking when a new part comes out)

Part 1: Destiny's a b**ch

Part 2: Unspoken truth

Part 3: Unplanned visits

Part 4: You'll always just be a villain

Part 5: The last of it

Part 6: Just the beginning for us

[steevbuckk]

FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 32/100

series Niccolò Machiavelli's The Politician by @spacerenegades & Deisderium

[Enemies to Lovers, 165 981 words, Explicit]

Summary:

Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that.

But okay, the thing that Descartes or whoever didn’t know was that Steve really tries, but Bucky Barnes has a mouth that should probably constitute an eighth sin or something.

Jesus fucking Christ, Sam’s going to kill him.

(or—Steve’s best friend is the U.S. Constitution and he can’t seem to stop fucking a hot Republican. They shouldn’t fall in love, but somehow they do. That’s it, that’s the fic.)

more fics

[hainethehero]

Stucky AU- where Bucky is Steve's bodyguard and he's always in a state of FML because Steve's a lil shit

"...it's so unfair!" Steve complained into his phone.

"I mean, I kinda understand why he did what he did Steve," Natasha- Princess Natalia- his good friend sighed over the line.

"Whose side are you on?" Steve cried indignantly, flopping over onto his back as he lay spread eagled on his ironically King-sized bed, for he was a young prince with many years ahead of him before he could even dream of ascending the throne of Mersondawn.

"I'm just saying," Natasha starts, "you disappeared for a whole two hours and no one knew where you were."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Tony just wanted to show me the new car he'd built..." he mutters childishly.

"Tony? As in Captain Howard Stark's son?"

Steve bites his lip. "Yeah. I mean, Tony's my friend, why would Bucky be so worried?"

"You really aren't beating those dumb blonde allegations are you?" Natasha deadpans.

"Wha- I'm not dumb-" Steve protests.

"He's your bodyguard," Natasha emphasizes, "of course he'd be worried!"

"Ugh... I hate this!" Steve whines.

He could practically hear Natasha pursing her lips at him in disappointment over the phone.

"Look," she says finally, "his job is to watch over you like a hawk-"

"He's more like a falcon," Steve mumbles causing Natasha to clear her throat sternly.

"His job is to watch over you and when you pull this near-weekly disappearing act, you're kinda messing with the guy's bread and butter."

Steve is silent for some time, thinking it over before he whines like a spoiled kid. "My bodyguard hates me."

Natasha chuckles, muttering something in Russian distantly before returning to the call. "He doesn't hate you, Steve. You just need to give the guy a break. And apologize for nearly giving him a heart attack."

Steve swallows nervously, eyeing his locked bedroom doors. "He... told Uncle Fury on me and got the 'OK' to incarcerate me in my room."

"You kinda deserve it," Natasha chirps, totally amused at Steve's despair.

"Again, whose side are you on?" Steve grumbles.

"Alright, I gotta go, Yelena has a friend she wants me to meet so.."

"Who is it?"

"Uh, Kate or something. She looks cool so far."

"Well, have fun then," Steve says and he can't help but feel envious because Natasha is out being free while he has to stay locked in his room.

"Hey, let me know how it goes?"

"Sure," he says before hanging up.

He tosses the phone onto his bed and sits up, arms perched on his sides as he glares at the door begrudgingly. He knows his bodyguard is somewhere out there, just waiting to pounce on him. And despite all of Steve's mighty whining, he's a cub in the face of Bucky's lion. The man had always been scary ever since he became Steve's personal bodyguard. And he was even more terrifying when Steve did something stupid. Like right now.

Bucky creeps up on him like a shadow, stopping him from moving beyond two steps of his quietly opened door.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room, punk?"

"G'ahh!' Steve croaks, blushing at his high pitched shriek and Bucky's annoying nickname for him which he secretly loved. "What the hell Buck?!"

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r; 2

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 3.9k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mentions of death,

note | thank you for the love with the first chapter! here's the second part. hope you'll enjoy reading. as always, reblogs and feedback are appreciated.

series masterlist

THE FIRST TIME you and Steve met was just a random encounter you had. You were bored. Howard brought you with him to New York City for his most awaited Stark Expo. The prototype for the flying car that he presented was a failure but the people still loved it since your best friend was quick to save himself from embarrassment. He was basically just putting a show on stage and you internally cringed standing there. So you just wandered around the place instead of waiting for him backstage. You found yourself in the nearby enlistment office adjacent and decided to stay to look around.

“What is the great Dr. Y/N doing here?”

You turned around from gazing at one of the framed displays to the familiar voice who spoke behind you. It was Dr. Erskine, a scientist rescued by the SSR with the help of Stark Industries. You returned the kind smile he gave you.

“I’ve had enough of watching Howard talk every time. I needed to get away.” you joked, making the older guy chuckle.

“Well, you are free to stay here in the meantime. I was just reviewing some possible test subjects for the serum.” he shared.

You were about to say something when a conversation caught your and Dr. Ernskine’s attention. You see two men talking to each other. One wore an enlisted army uniform while the shorter one held a piece of what seemed to be a registration paper.

“You don’t think I can do it.” the smaller, blonde man spoke, hurt evident in his tone.

“This isn’t some back alley, Steve. It’s a war. Why are you so keen to fight? There are lots of other important jobs.”

Your eyes move to Dr. Ernskine at the mention of the war. He already seemed engaged in the conversation. With only listening to them for less than a minute, your brain already formed context on what they were arguing about.

“You want me to sit in a factory? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon while the men are laying down their lives? I can do as well as them and I got no right to do any less. That’s the thing you don’t get, Bucky. It’s not about me.”

“Right. ‘Cause, you’ve got nothing to prove.” 

Then, a girl called out the name of the uniformed man, breaking the tension between the two. Once again, you turned your head to the scientist beside you and he slowly looked back at you. You can tell that he got an idea just based on the narrowing of his eyes. So you asked,

“What are you thinking, Doctor?”

He turned back with a small smile, “I’m going back to the office, Ms. Y/N. You are free to come if you want to.”

With growing curiosity and interest, you did follow him. You watched as he immediately rummaged through files and even asked for help from another nurse. He described the features of the man you saw earlier and you can already comprehend what the doctor is doing. He also approached the medical doctor, telling the same guy.

“Let me talk to him if he ever comes here.” Dr. Ernskine said.

You looked through the documents on the desk as Dr. Ernskine talked to the doctor. You read how the guy tried enlisting in four different names under four different cities. Today would possibly be his fifth try. He was undeniably persistent. It was rare as you know how other men were just forced to fight for their country.

“Quite determined, isn’t he?” the scientist spoke beside you.

“Maybe he is a real patriot,” you mumbled, still staring at the documents.

“Maybe not,” he responded, which made you look at him. “Maybe, he is just a good man.”

A patriot? A good man? What’s the difference anyway? You asked yourself. As if on cue, the medical doctor came in, stating that the guy is waiting on the other side of the curtain. Dr. Ernskine wore his white lab coat and entered the other room. You decided to stay and sit on one of the empty chairs. Silently, you listened to their conversation.

Steve Rogers. His deep voice was a big contrast to his seemingly fragile physique. You smiled when you heard Steve denying the files, stating that it might be the wrong file. When asked about the Nazis, his answer can say a lot about him.

“I don’t like bullies, Doctor. I don’t care where they’re from.”

He is a noble man, you thought. And knowing how Dr. Ernskine was interested in Steve, you knew he would stamp Steve’s document for approval. Minutes later, the white curtain opened fully. Dr. Ernskine walked out the door to look for the other staff, who he asked to leave earlier, leaving you and Steve alone. You immediately locked eyes with Steve’s baby blue ones. He seemed shy as he was the first one to look away. You stood up from your seat.

“My name’s Dr. Y/N. I work for Stark Industries.” you introduced yourself and he seemed surprised when you broke the growing silence. He was just eyeing your hand for a second when you offered it in front of him.

“Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” he spoke as he shook your hand softly. “You are Howard Stark’s assistant.”

Being used to being recognized in that way, you chuckled with that, “Indeed, I am.”

Steve was about to say something when the door opened again. You both stopped and looked at it, expecting the doctor. This time, it was Edwin Jarvis, Howard’s butler. He seemed to be searching for someone.

“Ms. Y/N, Mr. Stark has been looking for you.”

You looked back at Steve, “I guess I should go now… Congratulations on your enlistment, Steve.”

Knowing your best friend, the guy probably showered Jarvis with questions about your whereabouts. So you mindlessly left the room with Jarvis, not even hearing Steve’s small bye. 

Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I die a little. Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little.

An old but familiar jazz played on Steve’s phone while he stroked the pencil on his sketchpad. He hummed along to the music. It somehow made him feel less out of place or time rather. Just minutes ago, he told Natasha and Clint that he is going to bed. But in all honesty, he just wanted an excuse to not go to Tony’s time machine presentation.  As much as he wants to be a supportive friend and colleague, the machine just reminds him of your disappearance. 

Steve reached for his small eraser, ready to finish his quick sketch. He carefully erased some messy lines. After removing the remaining eraser, Steve’s lips formed into a small smile. He is still proud of the outcome of the drawing. 

Suddenly, there were heavy knocks on his door. He slid his pad into his desk drawer and closed it. Steve asked FRIDAY to open the door. Sam, who was seemingly stressed, entered the room right away.

“Steve, man, you need to see what’s going on out there,” he said. His tone is a mix of disbelief, surprise, and stress. He even pointed his index finger outside the door.

“Why?” 

Sam was just about to answer when a loud booming sound and screams were heard. Steve quickly stood up from his swivel chair. Sam followed him behind as they walked out of his room to go to the explosion.

“What’s happening? I thought Tony was presenting his new project.” Steve said, confused.

Sam was quick to reply, “He was. But then, this woman showed up and Bucky seems to know her–”

“Showed up?” Steve interjected.

“Yeah, like poof!” his friend demonstrated with jazz hands. “Tony pulled the time machine lever and suddenly, this woman is standing on the platform.”

His confusion rose. Nonetheless, Steve continued.

“Any information about the woman?”

“I don’t know, man. But Bucky called her, ``Dr. Y/N.”

“Y/N?”

Steve had to repeat that to make sure he was not just hearing things. Another booming sound was heard in the distance. The two shared a look. Sam proceeded,

“Yeah. Spider kid said she was Howard’s assistant. Then, I–”

That was it. That was Steve’s verification of you. He is totally unsure how such an event is possible. But that information gave him hope.

“Where is she?”

A thin blanket of gray smoke can be seen coming out of their entrance. Steve walked faster when he saw Pepper and Natasha assisting a woman from the hangar. Without even seeing your face, he can already confirm it is you. Your hair color is the same, only its length seems longer. You had the exact fashion sense of a lady from the late 1940s. Slowly, your head turned up, meeting his eyes. He noticed how your eyes widened as you stuttered, calling his name.

“S-Steve?!”

Seeing how surprised and terrified you are with everything, Steve was about to offer you a smile. But then, your eyes rolled off the back of your head as your knees gave up. He immediately walked up to you and carried you easily in a bridal style. He looked at your unconscious state before looking up at everyone in the room, where he met eyes with Bucky. He seemed surprised too with your sudden appearance in today’s time.

“Dr. Y/N possibly experienced a panic attack.” Vision stated behind them.

“You should bring her to the clinic. Bruce can check on her as soon as she wakes up.” Natasha told him.

Steve nods and leaves the room with you. He studied your facial features while he took you to the compound’s clinic. He still had to convince himself that this is real even though he is literally carrying you in his arms. The list of questions he’s asking right now is getting longer and he mentally reminds himself to ask both Tony and Bruce about it later. 

FRIDAY opened the door and lights as you and Steve entered the clinic. Just when he gently lays you on the empty bed, you squirm. Your eyes slowly open up. Steve watched as you squinted your eyes at the bright light on the white ceiling. Then, to him. Your eyes widened and immediately sat up on the bed. You were staring at each other for a full quiet minute. He did not speak until you did.

“A-Am I dead?”  

Steve paused, lines between his eyebrows before he realized why you asked the question. He tried not to chuckle when he replied, “No, you’re not.”

You shook your head, gulped, and carefully asked another question, “Are you Steve Rogers?”

“Yes, I am,” Steve answered with a tight smile. He is ready to explain how he is alive but you were already occupied.

In the most unintentional dramatic way, you sighed with the back of your hand on your forehead, “Damn it, I’m dead.”

You were under obvious stress. But you just accepted whatever happened to you. You expected it anyway… death. Is this heaven? Afterlife? The question popped into your head. You opened your eyes again, looking around the room you were in. Well, heaven seems to like glass windows and things that seem to be gadgets. Steve looked different than the last time you saw him, the day he crashed with the plane he controlled after fighting that chilling Red Skull. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach as you gaze a little longer at him. Do people still grow beards in the afterlife?  Before you can think of more things, he spoke again.

“Y/N, I told you you’re not dead. You are very much alive.” he paused. “You are just in a different year…”

Your nose wrinkled as you put on a look of puzzlement. “Then, what year is it?”

“It’s 2018.”

“What?”

You felt a headache coming, which makes you massage your temples. Standing up from the soft bed, you paced around the room. You breathed out heavily, puffing your cheeks. You were supposed to be in 1947, a week before Howard did the test trial on you. Not here. 2018?! Is anyone playing pranks?! You turned to Steve.

“Please tell me you are just making this all up,” you begged. ”Did Howard set this all up? Did I faint while I was on the machine? How are you even alive?! A-Are you even the real Steve Rogers or are you a lookalike? Is Barnes out there too? Where am I– God. This is insane.”

You almost tugged at the roots of your hair, trying to find an explanation for everything. Steve was about to calm you down when the door slides. You two turned to catch who it was. Only to notice the same man you saw at the controls earlier. Another awkward silence passed before he cleared his throat,

“Hello, I am Dr. Bruce Banner and–”

“I’m Dr. Y/N from Stark Industries.” you introduced yourself eagerly. Seeing another doctor made you somehow more impatient to ask questions. You don’t know what his doctorate is for but you hoped he can answer you. “Can you please tell me, Dr. Banner, where am I?”

“You are in the 21st century, missy.”

Another guy comes in and you swore, he almost looks like your best friend. Except you never think Howard will wear such a beard. Plus, you don’t like how he seems full of himself. Like Howard. But you got used to your best friend.

“Missy? Please don’t call me that. I already introduced myself.”

The three men around you– even Tony Stark himself– can tell that you were aggravated by the Stark’s presence. Well, in your defense, you don’t like to be called nicknames like that. You already had enough of that with the ugly geezers you interacted with in your time and if you really are in another timeline, you don’t want to hear another stupid nickname from anyone.

“Who even are you?” you asked him.

Tony, even though he won’t admit it, seemed a bit stunned and intimidated by you at the same time. But he replied, “Tony Stark.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Stark? You’re a Stark?!”

“I don’t like repeating myself but yes.”

There is even more confusion. You stared at his face for what felt like forever. Tony looked back at you, wondering why you are looking that way. If this is the 21st century and this man is a Stark…

You gasped, “You are Howard’s son!”

Tony nods at the mention of his father’s name. But before he can say anything, you already bombarded him with questions. You even felt more hopeful.

“Where’s Howard? Is he here? Oh my god! Does he look old already? I need to see him! I have many things to ask him!”

You looked at Tony and you noticed how his expression changed. His eyes saddened. It became quieter in the whole room. Like you can hear if a needle falls on the ground. Your heartbeat became louder than your hearing. Searching for answers, your eyes moved to Bruce but he looked away. You then turned around and instantly met Steve’s apologetic gaze. 

“Where is he?” you asked in almost a whisper.

Steve breathed out heavily before speaking, “Maybe you should sit down first, Y/N.”

“Why?” 

You were uneasy with what was going on in your surroundings and mixed emotions. All of the confusion, fear and other emotions you feel are leading up to one thing: frustration.

“Why do I need to sit down first, Steve?!”

At this point, you almost screamed at him. But both Bruce and Tony stayed quiet. Steve still tried to talk to you,

“Y/N, please calm down–”

“Well, damn, Rogers! Tell me what’s happening because I don’t like any of this!” you cried.

You did not notice tears were already spilling from your eyes. You were tearing up out of pure confusion and frustration. Even worry because you don’t know where the hell is your best friend and you want to see him now. Your lungs squeezed as you take in a lot of air. You cannot stop yourself from walking back and forth with your hands holding your head and your hips. It was like you want to run out of whatever this room is and jump back to that platform you suddenly appeared on. You tugged your hair between your fingers, crouching down. Tears continued to stream down your cheeks. You know that panicking is not the best thing to do in an alarming situation. But what the hell is this?

“I hate this.” you sobbed.

No one dared to touch you. The three men were all sorry.  Bruce only looked down, fiddling with his fingers. Tony quietly crossed his arms as he looked everywhere in the room except you. When you felt someone crouching down in front of you, you spoke again between sobs.

“Just tell me where Howard is. Please.”

You looked up to the man in front of you with your eyes tired and still teary. Steve read and understood how you felt. Helpless. He knew how you wanted answers badly and he also knows how overwhelming it will be. So, his eyes darted to Tony, silently asking for permission to let you know about Howard. He nods. Steve glanced back at you.

“Let’s sit down back to the bed first,” he told you in the softest way he can.

Thankfully, you nodded and Steve sat next to you. You were still sobbing as he reached for your resting hand on your lap. Instantly, the knot in your stomach went tighter. You already have thoughts about where Howard is but you just want to hear an official answer.

Steve’s voice was heavy, “Y/N, Howard has already died.”

He waited for a reaction. But you remained quiet. You let out a deep, weighty exhale through your nose since you were chewing on your lips. You closed your eyes and the waterworks started again except it’s all quiet now. Tony decided to leave the room. Bruce followed. Steve felt your other hand gripping above his.

You murmured with eyes still closed, “When?”

“1991. It was a car accident.”

Your shoulders shake when you cried harder. Your heart was crushed into pieces. In your mind, you were praying that this is all just an ugly nightmare. You hoped that when you open your eyes, you will be back in your bedroom. Instead, you see Steve, Captain America. The one whom you grieved for two years. But now, he is here, in front of you, while your best friend, Howard, is dead.

“How is this even real?”

It was a question in your head that you mindlessly spoke out. Steve moved closer and delicately pulled you in his arms, where you cried silently.

“How is she?” 

The moment Tony and Bruce walked by the compound’s living room on their way back to the hangar, they noticed everyone who was waiting for updates. 

“She’s awake. She and Steve are talking.” Bruce answered as Tony seemed somber and lost. “We don’t really get to talk with her. But we can confirm that she is Dr. Y/N from the 1940s.”

Pepper quickly noticed something wrong with her husband. So she called him, “Tony?”

Everyone’s attention moved to the man. But he is still lost, too deep in his thinking. Pepper called him again. Bruce had to nudge him to finally snap back to reality.

“What?” he asked Bruce, totally unaware.

“Can I talk to you outside?” 

Tony turned his head to Pepper and nodded. The two walked out and leaving everyone in the compound. The cold breezy air made Pepper hug herself while walking side by side with Tony on their way to the lakeside. They chose to sit on one of the benches. Pepper wastes no time starting the conversation.

“How are you?” she asked with worry in her tone.

Tony replied, “I’m fine. Some machines don’t really work sometimes. There’s always room for improvement.”

“No, not about that.” Pepper shakes her head. “I’m talking about Dr. Y/N.”

“What about her?” 

Tony tried to act like he was not affected at all by your sudden presence almost an hour ago. But he knows his wife can see right through his nonchalant facade.

“Bucky told us who she was– is.” Pepper corrected herself. “How do you feel?”

Tony knows who you are. But only by name as he avoided looking at your picture ever since he can remember. You are his dad’s terrific assistant. His best friend since college. And also, his dad’s greatest regret. 

Ever since he was a kid, Howard never failed to tell him about you. He told stories, facts, and kind words about you that Tony almost felt bad about your disappearance. But then, it later became an issue between his parents. Behind closed doors, he would hear his mother complaining how Howard never seemed to move on from who was already gone. He did stop talking about you, biting his tongue every time he thought of something connected to you. 

They did have a better marriage. But Tony never forgets to think of you as a special person to his dad. His dad never confirmed the fact that you are his what if and should have been. Tony hated it that it caused distance between him and his father. He builds a better relationship with his mother until their very last years.

“I… don’t know.”

But meeting you now, in a short interaction, Tony contemplated. He still trying to figure his messy thoughts out but he had one thing for sure.

“But I can see why she’s important to my father.”

“So, you were frozen in ice and joined this group of superheroes…”

It’s been a couple of hours since you came to this timeline. Steve just told you how he survived what happened back in 1945 since you asked him to. undeniably, you were astonished and shocked by how it happened. He told you bits of the beginning chapters of his current life to somehow make you understand even a little. You were gladly picking up and telling him your conclusion. Steve was relieved to see you more comfortable sitting on the bed with your puffy eyes.

“Then, you go fight every time there is a threat, not just here in the country, but the world?” you ended. Steve nods. You smiled. But it didn’t last long since it slowly faded and you looked down, pursing your lips.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

You looked up, shaking your head, “Nothing… I just realized that I’m pretty much alone now. Everyone I know from my time is probably dead now.”

“You’re not alone. I’m still alive. You know me.” Steve quipped.

Your lips formed into a small smile, “Do I? I mean, you’ve been here for years now, Steve. You probably changed too.”

He shrugged, “Nope, still the same guy from the 40s.”

“The one who lied many times on his forms?” you teased and you two shared a laugh.

“Yes. That’s me, Ma’am.” he joked back, using the same formal tone. You laughed. Once you two calmed down, he spoke again, “But really, you’re not alone. I’m here. Buck will help you too. I’m sure everyone in the compound will.”

You nodded after he placed his hand on yours again. You still have a long list of questions in your mind and some are still left unanswered. Your heart is still crying for Howard and your loss. But having Steve, who can understand you, will hopefully help you to adapt to this crazy time.

“Thank you, Steve.”

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST [usernames in bold means can't be tagged, will be removed if not fixed.]

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[nyx22-blogs]

To Loathe or To Love

You were a teacher at Winsford Highschool, a science teacher to be exact. You were currently walking to a meeting with your fellow teachers and the schools principal, Principal Coulson. You walked through to crowd of high schoolers going to their classes and made your way through the doors and into the meeting room.

"Hey everyone, is Phil here yet?" You said as you sat down next to Ms. Romanoff and Ms. Maximoff, who you knew as Nat and Wanda.

"No Mr. Hard ass isn't here yet so we can relax for a bit before everyone else gets in." Natasha said as she chuckled at her own name for him.

"Shh, Nat don't call him that out loud he might come in and hear you!" Wanda said, urging her friend to be a bit more cautious of her words.

"Relax Wan, we all know he's usually 4 or 5 minutes late for every meeting he hosts." Nat said rolling her eyes and she spun in her chair.

You giggled and rolled your eyes at your friends antics. Natasha could be so silly at times and Wanda was usually the one who played the mother hen of the group. You definitely wouldn't have it any other way though.

"So Nat..how was the date last night?" You asked her, she had told you and Wanda that she was going out on a date with the art teacher, Steve Rogers, and you hadn't heard anything about the date yet. To say you were curious was an understatement.

"Yeah! Tell us what happened!" Wanda said as you and her scooted your chairs closer to her.

"Ok ok, so basically we had dinner at his loft, which was decorated beautifully may I mention, and it was just so romantic. We talked and ate, and then he turned the lights down low and played some music and we danced and then afterwards when he twirled me he-"

"Hey ladies, Phil here yet cause I was wondering if-"

"NO!" You three said at the same time as the redhead went back to her story.

"And then he kissed me." She whispered and giggled.

"Awwwww how romantic." Wanda said.

"I know ... of course Steve was so romantic he's the freaking art teacher. He probably knew how to set up everything perfectly...like art-!" You said, slightly wishing you had someone doing that for you as well.

"Uhm hi, sorry for interrupting whatever is.. going on here but have any of you ladies seen Phil..or Steve for that matter. I have to ask him something." Said the man you loathed most. James Barnes. A nuisance he was, and idiot, and most importantly..an egotistical know it all, except he knew nothing. Stupid man.

"No, Mr. Barnes. We don't know where Steve or Phil are. Do you think we'd be here talking the period away instead going to them if we did?" You said condescendingly to James.

Nat and Wanda exchanged glances and sat down watching all the drama unfold. Unbeknownst to you your two best friends had been shipping you with the English teacher for quite some time.

But alas, Natasha and Wanda being the foreign languages teachers, you never knew their opinion about you and Bucky due to them always whispering it to each other in Russian or sometimes Sokovian.

"Well sorry y/n, I should've known you wouldn't be able to answer such a simple question in a civil manner." He said in a very irritated tone.

"You know what-" you got up from your seat but before you could continue Natasha put her hand on your shoulder, making you sit back down. You sighed and pulled out your phone so you could message Phil to see where he was. You realized you left your phone on do not disturb so you turned it off and saw you had an email from Phil.

"Guys I got an email from Phil, maybe he changed the meeting location..I'm reading it now..."

Your eyes widened in horror as you read through the message.

Attention all students and staff members, due to the health code violation 1019.1001 -asbestos, which was found in the laboratory, we will all be evacuating the building at approximately 9:50 a.m. Should there be any emergency, please contact school administration immediately. All classes are to be cancelled as well as faculty meetings for the rest of the week. Under no circumstances are any staff members allowed to stay within the premise of the school building. All closed doors and windows will be automatically shut down and locked immediately, and will only be reopened with staff keys.

-Sincerely

Mr. Coulson

"Holy shit!" You said as you ran towards the door and tried to open it.

"What's wrong?!" Bucky, Nat and Wanda all said at the same time.

"Oh my god everyone evacuated the school because of some asbestos in the building and now we're stuck in here." You said panicking as you tried to look for another exit in the room.

"WHAT?!" Natasha yelled.

"Oh my god, today was supposed to be the last day until break...we're gonna be stuck in here for a week?!" Wanda said while she shook Natasha's shoulders.

"Wait- wait a minute, why did y/n get the email late and everyone else left already? Even better question..why didn't any of US get the email?!" Bucky yelled.

"I didn't get it late I had my phone on do not disturb so my notifications wouldn't interrupt my lesson. Do you guys have your phone on do not disturb?" You said.

"Shit..I do." Bucky said.

"I do too." Wanda said.

"Same." Said Natasha as she groaned.

"Well...how the hell do we get outta here?" You said, kind of scared you all would be trapped in this goddamn school the entire break.

"I think the better question would be what the hell are we supposed to do while we're in here." Natasha said as she got up and walked further into the room.

"Nat? Where are you going?" Wanda said as she watched her friend walk away.

"The bathroom, I've been needing to pee for a while now and I can't do it during my damn classes so might as well now." She said as she opened the door to the bathroom and walked in.

"I didn't know there was a bathroom in the meeting room.." Wanda said as she opened her bag and pulled a snack out, she offered you and Bucky some..you both quickly denied.

"I'm going to see if there are any vents in this room." Bucky said as he got up and started looking around.

"What the hell do you want with a vent?" You said confused as hell.

Was he moronic?

"I see my theories of you living under a rock are correct. Haven't you ever seen a James Bond movie?" He said as he kept looking around.

"What the fuck does James Band have to do with anything?" You said getting irritated.

"Ok first of all, it's James BOND you abomination to fucking society. Second of all, if you've ever seen any of his movies, which I'm now learning you haven't, you'd know that when he was stuck in a room like we are he found a vent and climbed through it, which then led him to the door."

So he was moronic..

"You dumbass, you think the five by four vents in this room are gonna be big enough for one of us to fit in it? Hell, even I couldn't squeeze through one of those, and I'm the smallest out of all of us here." You said.

"Obviously I'm looking for a bigger one you idiot! Every room in this building is required to have a ventilation system that's at least 64 square inches. At least I think the bathrooms do.." he said as he scratched his head.

"Great..so we'll just go to the bathrooms then and-" You looked around the room and realized just how screwed you and Bucky were.

"Wanda and Nat are in the bathroom.."

"So? What's the big deal..let's the ladies relieve themselves.. Jesus." Bucky said chuckling at the odd amount of worriedness in your statement.

"Oh my god you're stupider than I thought, the email said that if the doors are locked then they lock permanently, which will include bathroom doors." You said, enunciating the last five words in your sentence.

This entire day was just turning out to be a shit show..

"Jesus Christ, now they're stuck in there. You think we can maybe break the lock?" Bucky said, worried that Nat and Wanda may be stuck in there for a whole week. He may not have liked you, because he really loved you, but he didn't want them to be stuck there the entire time.

Your phone started ringing and it was Natasha.

"Yeah yeah, before you say anything I know. You're stuck. We're trying to figure out- well I'm trying to figure out how to get you out of there. Idiot over here is just make dumb suggestions."

Bucky glared out you and you chuckled at the little pout on his face. It was cute..as much as you hated to admit it.

"Alright well, just get us outta here..Wanda's getting anxious without her snacks..and I really don't wanna deal with Wanda when she doesn't have snacks."

"Yeah yeah, don't worry we'll find a way to get you out sooner..or later.." you mumbled the last part of that statement and hung up the phone.

"That's heavy duty metal surrounding the door knob, I don't think so. Besides, we have to find another way to get out of here now..seeing as the whole ventilation thing won't work." You said, answering Bucky's previous questions before Natasha had rung you.

You we're contemplating if you should try and hit the lock with the fire extinguisher that was in the corner of the room.

"What do you mean? I thought we were gonna go to the bathroom and get to the ventilation system."

"Wanda and Nat are in the bathroom idiot. And. It's. Locked. Were you not here for like half of our conversation?"

"There's a men's bathroom too dumbass." He said as if it were obvious

"No there isn't, not in the meeting room anyway. It's just one big ass bathroom for every adult." You said

"That's dumb.." he said slightly annoyed that nothing was going right today.

You groaned and took a seat in one of the chairs, your head in your hands. You heard Bucky sigh and he took a seat next to you as well. You felt a large hand on your back, Bucky's hand, he rubbed your back up and down.

"We won't be here forever you know..it'll be ok." He said with a genuine smile..which quickly turned into a smirk as he said his next sentence.

"Besides, you'll get to be with my handsome face for the rest of the week." He said, laughing as you started to not so playfully smacking his arms.

"Hey..can I ask you something?" Bucky said as he took his hand and gently tilted your chin towards him.

"Yeah.."

"Why don't you like me?"

"Because you don't like me..?" You said confused.

"What-? No, you don't like me." He said.

This entire feud started because of miscommunication didn't it?

"No, you started making snarky comments towards me the first month I started working here."

"Yeah because you were pretty much a jerk to me doll." He said with a pained chuckle.

"What? What do you mean I was a jerk?"

"Well you showed interest in me in the beginning of the month when you worked here, pretty much lead me on, then when I bought you flowers and left em on my desk you threw em out and never even told me why."

"I- you bought me those?!"

"W- yeah, you didn't know?"

"NO! I- I thought they were from Brock.."

"Why would they be from BROCK?!"

"Because he was hitting on me in the staff room..and then told me you didn't like me..." You said, a bit ashamed this got so out of proportion.

"What- doll. God of course I liked you and- wait Brock was hitting on you?"

"Mhm." You said

"Son of a bitch, I should go knock his fuckin teeth out for all the issues we had to go through and-"

You cut him off by giving him a kiss on the lips. It was soft and slow and passionate and all the little things you needed to confess. His hand combed through your hair and the other wrapped around your waist. Both of your hands instantly wrapped around his neck and you both savored the teaste of one another.

"Hey guys there was an emergency key in one of the stalls and- WHAT THE FUCK-?" Natashas eyes popped out of her head as she witnessed the scene unfolding in front of her.

"YES! I knew it would happen eventually!" You heard Wanda say, and you giggled a bit at their antics.

"What was that about an emergency key Nat?" Bucky said, still a bit out of it from the kiss you two shared.

"Well there was an emergency key in a stall and I'm pretty sure it opens all locks."

"Finally! Let's get the hell outta here." You shouted and all of you ran to the door and Natasha unlocked it. You guys proceeded to unlock all doors in your way and you all finally made it outside.

"Well ladies, and man, it's been a pleasure but I should really go now..I gotta see a certain artsy blonde about something." Said Nat as she walked to her car saying her goodbyes and drove off.

"I should probably get going too, my Vis is probably worried sick!" Wanda said as she gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and said bye to Bucky. She got in her car and drove off as well.

"Who's Vis-?"

"Her husband." You said.

"Oh. Well uhm, do you have a ride..or-?"

"Oh no, I came without my car today..a ride would be nice thank you." You said sheepishly.

"Of course doll, c'mon." He said as he wrapped an arm around your waist and you both walked to his car.

"Hey uhm..would you like to come back to my place for some early dinner..? You don't have to say yes or anything I was just-"

"That'd be great Buck, as long as this isn't a one time thing..?"

"Definitely not doll."

"Well let's go!" You said as you gave him a small kiss on the cheek and you both walked to the car.

Fin

A/N: this was freaking long 😂 and I liked it..ish.

Please please please show me y'all actually read my crappy writing, like, comment, reblog. Revive me lmfao. It seriously helps with motivation ngl :) ❤️🧡💖

~Nyx

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Hunting Roses - Chapter 4

AN: This is a yandere Zemo fic. That means that it will have dark content. I do not endorse these relationships and behaviour in real life. This chapter contains mentions of death, tears, pain, divorce, grief, manipulation, fear, panic, and funerals. Also, please let me know if you like the new mood board!

Steve Rogers who was also known as Captain America was not having a good day.  To begin with, General Ross, a man who operated on fear and not respect had introduced the Sokovian Accords to the Avengers.  In doing so, Ross had ensured that each one of the Avengers thoroughly understood that an overwhelming majority of the governments around the world supported the Accords and what would happen to anyone who opposed the Accords in any way, shape, or fashion.

Steve wasn’t blind.  He’d seen the way that Ross zeroed in on Wanda and heard how he kept repeating and emphasising the complete title of the Accords.  He was proud of the way that you and Rhodey had stood up for her.

Steve’s mind was whirring when Ross announced that you had immunity and the other Avengers didn’t.  He had just realised that the singular offer of manipulation was part of a bigger, hidden plan when his phone vibrated.

The message that lit up his screen only contained two words.  But those words were enough to cause another crack in his heart.  Steve’s gaze became unfocused and all he could see were the words, “She’s gone.”

His body trembled as he announced that he had to leave.  Steve couldn’t bring himself to turn around to look at any of his team because he feared that they would see the tears pooling in his eyes and the pain in his heart.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve found himself carrying Peggy’s coffin with five other people.  He had tuned out the whole service and his gaze had become blurry as he stared unblinkingly at Peggy’s coffin.  While there were certainly people in the church that knew of his dual identity, he was sure that none of them would judge him for his grief.

The end of the service came too quickly and not fast enough for Steve and he once again found himself guiding Peggy to her final resting place.  Due to the large crowd, it was easy for him to slip away and return to the now empty church.

That was where Natasha found him.  Natasha had just finished explaining that Tony, Rhodey, and Vision had already signed the Accords.  When Steve asked about Wanda, Natasha replied that Wanda was under house arrest and Tony’s protection.

Steve’s throat felt dry as he gathered his courage to ask Natasha if she had signed the Accords too.  He was afraid that her answer would mean that he would lose another friend.

Steve felt his heart constrict as Natasha confirmed that she had signed the Accords.  He blew out his breath in a disappointed exhale and bent his head to look at the ground instead of Natasha.  Steve couldn’t even find it in himself to reproach Natasha when her phone rang in the church and she answered it.

His head shot up when he heard her tone change.

“Say that again,” the spy commanded, lowering the hand that held her phone to waist level and pressing the speaker button.

“I’d be more than happy to arrange a hearing appointment for you, Widow, although I didn’t think that I’d need to do that for a couple more decades.”

“Tony.” Natasha snapped.

“Not in the mood for jokes I see.” Tony replied smoothly.

“What gave it away?” Natasha asked sarcastically.

“The general tone of your voice, the fact that….”

“Tony!” Steve bit out impatiently.

“Steve.  I’m sorry to hear about Peggy,” Tony stated sombrely, “and I hate to be the bearer of more unwelcome news but (Name) is nowhere to be found and a woman claiming to be the ex-wife of Baron Helmut Zemo has arrived at the compound along with Zemo’s father and son.  They are insistently demanding to talk to as many of us as they can.”

Steve’s feelings about Natasha signing the Accords were pushed to the side at Tony’s words and he and Natasha shared concerned looks.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Natasha promised.

Steve couldn’t think of a time when he had been more grateful for Natasha’s driving ability even if she was a slightly reckless driver on normal occasions.  Neither of them spoke as she sped through the streets arriving at the compound in exactly ten minutes.

Steve’s curiosity and apprehension built with every step.  He and Natasha walked in silence through the compound and Steve pretended not to notice her side glances every few minutes.  While he walked, he wondered exactly what the Zemo family was doing at the compound.  He also worried about the fact that you had disappeared from the compound.

Over your time with the Avengers, Steve had been able to piece together bits and pieces of your history.  His mind kept returning to the fact that years ago, you and some others had fought against a bill called the Mutant Registration Act.  The reminder of the Act was enough to have Steve fighting a shudder.  He’d done some research on that act and he had been appalled at the fact that the Act had even been allowed to enter the Congress chambers.

Steve had also been horrified at the amount of support that the Act had amassed.  It seemed that the America he had fought for in the forties was slowly slipping away and being replaced with an unfamiliar, unpredictable, and harsher America. 

Three people stood up from their chairs as Steve and Natasha entered the conference room.  Tony, Rhodey, Clint, Wanda and Sam all turned to look at them.  Vision was the only one who didn’t.  His head was cocked to the side and he was gazing at Wanda with concern.  While Natasha sought Clint’s gaze for reassurance, Steve looked at Wanda.  Her eyes were red and the skin around them was red too and Steve felt sympathy and protectiveness surge through him.  He also noticed that Vision was standing close to her.

When Wanda spoke, her voice was firm, “Baron Heinrich Zemo, Heike Párduc, and Carl Zemo, may I introduce Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff?”

Steve frowned slightly as he tried to figure out why Wanda had introduced the three visitors the way she had.  The closest he could get to an answer was that Wanda wanted to introduce them as humans not by their job titles.  He melted when he saw Carl wave to him and he returned the gesture.

“And your other friend?  Phantasm?” Heinrich demanded forcefully, “Where is she?  We came to speak with her!”

Steve’s mind registered the with in Heinrich’s sentence and for some reason, that four letter word had his muscles tensing.  Steve estimated that Heinrich was in his mid-sixties but the man still had a formidable air around him.  Heike seemed to have a similar fire in her eyes.  With her styled, curly blonde hair and light blue eyes, Steve could be forgiven for thinking that Heike was a woman he had encountered in the forties.

Heike’s son on the other hand had innocent brown eyes underneath furrowed eyebrows and neatly parted, short brown hair.  It was easy to tell that Heinrich and Carl were related just by looking at them and Steve’s heart sank because if he could spot the similarities, chances are that other people could as well and Carl could be used as leverage against his family simply because his grandfather was royalty.

Heike turned to her son, who had sat down again while looking at Steve with an awed expression.

“Show them what you can do,” Heike urged quietly and Carl frowned deeply, closing his eyes.  When Carl reopened them, Steve was shocked to see his shield sitting on the table between them. 

Without thinking about it, Steve reached forwards to touch his shield but his hand passed through it as if it wasn’t there.

“Carl’s talent appeared the night we left Sokovia.” The Baron rumbled, his voice losing some of its forcefulness as Heike smiled at Carl proudly and the illusion of Steve’s shield vanished when Carl grinned happily up at his mother.

“We think it has something to do with his father’s innate talent of persuading people to see his point of view,” the Baron continued.  Steve understood the underlying meaning of the Baron’s words.  It seemed that the Baron’s son had no qualms about using words or force to encourage his audience to see his point of view.

“Though that isn’t the only reason why we came,” Heike revealed, “it is a small part of it.  We all wanted to thank Phantasm for her actions in Sokovia and we wanted to warn her.”

“Warn her?” Clint echoed, “Why?”

Wanda and Heike looked at each other and then Heike asked Wanda and Vision to take Carl on a tour of the compound.  Heike and Heinrich watched them leave and then Heike turned back to face Steve.  When she spoke, Steve noticed that her voice had risen slightly and he could detect notes of urgency and panic in it though her tone remained level.

“You must understand that Helmut and I fell out of love a long time ago.  We chose to stay together for Carl and because we didn’t want to give the Sokovian media any opportunity to report gossip.  I’m sure you understand that concept.”

The present Avengers all made small noises of agreement.

Heike cleared her throat, “When we landed in America and had not heard from Helmut, I began to dream of a different life.  In Sokovia, not only was he a former Colonel of the Sokovian Armed Forces but he was a commander of EKO Scorpion, an elite strike force.  As a result of his time with those organisations, I began to witness a darker side of the man.  There was a ruthlessness to him and so, I quietly made inquires about divorcing him.  Heinrich found out about my endeavours and to my surprise, he supported me.”

“People change over time.”  Heinrich asserted, “Sometimes it is not for the better.” 

Tony nodded, “I’ve had that happen to me once or twice with people I’ve known for a long time.”

Heike nodded, “Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, I was able to recover the divorce papers that I had signed before we fled Sokovia.  When Helmut arrived unexpectedly on our doorstep, he inquired about your friend and there was a longing hidden in his inquires and I thought to myself, “Why would he hide his intrigue?”  All of the answers I considered left a bitter taste in my mouth and so, I took the opportunity and presented Helmut with the divorce papers that I signed.  As soon as he left, I felt as if I had played right into his hands and so, we made plans to come here to warn Phantasm.  It seems we have arrived too late and she is gone.”

“I have a few ideas where she might have gone.”  Natasha spoke up reassuringly and some of the tension left Heike’s body although Steve saw that Heinrich was still unconvinced, “We’ll find her and we’ll tell her what you told us.”

“I will also admit that I am worried about Carl,” Heike continued and Heinrich nodded, “while I know that Helmut would be incredibly protective and if the occasion asked for it, downright wrathful if any of his enemies tried to harm Carl in any manner, Carl is a young boy who adores his father.  He knows he has a talent and if he thought he could help his father by using this talent…” Heike trailed off.  Steve could see the shock on all the Avengers’ faces particularly Natasha, Rhodey and Tony’s faces at the implication that an innocent child could be manipulated into helping his father simply because they were related.

Heinrich confirmed the hidden message in Heike’s final speech for the Avengers, “It would be best if Helmut never found out about his son’s talent but we do not live in an ideal world.  We must be practical.  Do you know of a place where my grandson can learn to use his talent safely and without fear?” 

“There’s a place called Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,” Natasha explained “and it would be the first place (Name) would go to feel safe again.  On the outside, it appears that the school is academically focused but that is a façade.  Its true purpose is to provide a safe environment for children and adults like Carl.”

“Can you escort him there?” Heike pleaded, “I fear that my ex-husband has eyes and ears everywhere and that it will be sooner rather than later that he finds out about Carl’s gift.”

Natasha raised her chin, “I will escort him there and do my absolute best to protect him,” she vowed.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3399

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background/minor themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Series Masterpost for all chapters

2. Hazelnut Ganache Tart

Mary does sober up during her shift.

She feels kind of miserable, so she’s thankful that it’s a slow Monday. She’s also vaguely ashamed of how she’d shown up to work. It’s a new low, even for her. And then someone had seen her and called her out on it. It’s mortifying.

The encounter with Bucky preoccupies her thoughts all day, and she winds up burning a batch of croissants as she daydreams. She’s more careful after that, taking extra care with the assembly of her hazelnut ganache tarts.

Focusing on the intricate details of the pastries, on executing them perfectly, helps her to calm down and forget about the embarrassing encounter. For a little while at least. Alcohol would be better, and by the time she’s clocking out she’s already thinking about getting home so she can have the relief of a drink.

Or ten.

If anything, she throws back the first few even faster than usual, eager to wipe the memory of what’d happened that morning out of her mind.

Bucky, she thinks acerbically. What a stupid name.

And the nerve of him! To just assume those things about her. Has that loser never seen somebody hungover at work before? It's quite the presumptuous leap from that to … submissive.

‘Dominant’. Mary rolls her eyes. He could’ve just been making it up. Probably was. She’s certainly never met anybody who’s just come out and announced it the way he had. What a bizarre thing to do. It’s not like it’s something people go around broadcasting. It’s … well it’s a mental disorder, isn’t it?

They’d mentioned it in her Psych101 class back in college, but she’d dropped out before that semester was halfway through. Unable to help herself, she pulls out her phone and googles “Dominant,” then navigates to the Wikipedia page on “Dominant and Submissive Personality Disorder.” She winds up getting sucked into reading about it. But as soon as the article starts talking about the submissive subsection, she closes the browser in discomfort. 

She remembers back to the encounter with that guy—Bucky. He hadn’t seemed like there was anything wrong with him (other than being bossy and intrusive as fuck).  But where the heck did he get off throwing out psych diagnoses at total strangers? Mary's cheeks grow hot the more she thinks about his cocksure attitude and the pitying way he’d looked at her.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Doll.” 

She remembers how he’d spoken to her, how he’d called her out on her behavior and spoken so assuredly, like he could see right into her. Like he knew all her secrets. It’d been unnerving.

Her pulse quickens as she thinks about it. The way his big hand had felt, wrapped so securely around her wrist. And how he’d squeezed her wrist—slowly, gently.

“Oh, honey. I think you are.” 

Fuck, it’d made her knees go weak.

Sighing, she takes the bottle of vodka and her glass to the couch and plops down, using the remote to turn the tv onto YouTube. She starts up a playlist that she can lose herself in—music videos, stuff from all the tv shows she likes, edits, fail compilations, whatever. Maybe it’s pathetic that this is how she spends most nights, but there’s no one that she has to impress. And she can’t bear the feeling of being alone in her brain otherwise. At least this way everything is warm and entertaining. She pours herself a little more, throwing off the ratio of vodka to ginger ale, but the taste doesn't bother her nearly as much once she's on the third or fourth drink.

The bottle’s half empty, and she wonders if she’ll finish it. She’ll be drunk again at work tomorrow morning, if she does. Yikes. She’ll stop after two more. One more. Two more.

The bottle’s three-quarters empty and an Adam Lambert music video is blasting on the tv. He really is the most underappreciated vocalist of his generation! And he’s got such nice makeup, too …

Maybe she won’t even go to work tomorrow, Mary thinks manically. They don’t appreciate her there anyway. Maybe she’ll just stay here and drink the rest of this and enjoy herself until… until…

The bottle’s empty and the party’s in full swing. No worries though, she thinks, she’s got some of that nasty cheap rum in the back of the pantry. Blecgh. She orders DoorDash that she doesn’t really have the money to be wasting on, puts on makeup while lip syncing to the tv, and thinks about calling Chase to tell him what a loser he is and how glad she is that they broke up. Haven’t had to use this concealer to cover up anything but acne in over a year.

Rum isn’t so bad when you mix it with orange juice!

She gets on a depressing video kick. She bemoans the state of politics, then society, the world, her life. She goes through all the old pictures in her phone and gets pissed at the ones with Chase in them. She imagines running into her ex somewhere random, with a super hot new boyfriend on her arm. She imagines the dumbstruck expression he’d have on his face, and how she’d introduce her way-hotter new boyfriend to him. 

Ohmygosh, Chase! How’ve you been?! Oh me? I’m doing great. This is Bucky, he’s a surgeon-slash-green beret-slash-musician. Ha! Yeah well we just got back from two months in the Bahamas, so that’s why we’re so tan. 

It’s the rum, Mary decides. It makes her sad. She stops feeling fun and happy, and starts feeling lonely and morose. She finds the cardboard sleeve that Bucky had written that phone number on. Hell no, she’s not calling it. She’s got the internet. There’s tons of info online about this stuff that she can look up. Besides, it’s just curiosity. She’s not like him. She's not like that.

She googles BDSM disorder and clicks on the first search result, which winds up being porn. That’s a mistake, but then she decides to watch the porn anyway, because it’s sexy—plus, it's sort of educational, right?

The porn starts making her even more sad. She stares at the paper cup sleeve in her hand while some girl gets the tar beat out of her backside. The last video had been an over-the-lap spanking video—Mary had liked that one. But this doesn’t look nice at all. Especially when the guy switches to hitting her with a friggin’ stick. 

Is this the sort of stuff Bucky likes to do? Jeez.

She has the receipt that Bucky wrote his own number on, too. On impulse, she pulls out her phone and starts to enter a new contact. 

“Asshole Dom Bucky,” she mumbles as she types the words and saves the new contact number with a giggle. It takes more than one try, her fingers not hitting the right keys very often, but she gets it done. 

She comes very, very close to calling Bucky, but winds up calling the hotline phone number instead at the last minute. She’ll whine and cry to them instead, she thinks. At least they’re strangers. She can tell them anything. It’s confidential, anonymous. They can’t tell anyone what she says.

A woman picks up the phone and greets her in a calm, friendly voice.

“Hello, my name is Sharon. I’m a volunteer counselor at the National Submissive Crisis Intervention Hotline.”

“Whatever,” Mary slurs. She is so drunk. She gulps more of her rum and OJ, thinks about going and getting the little razor blade that she only thinks about picking up when she’s wasted. Sometimes it feels nice to do something outrageous when she’s this sad. Nobody can stop her from it, and that feels nice, too. “M’not having a crisis,” she mumbles.

“Okay,” Sharon says, voice still so pleasant and accommodating. “What’s your name?”

“Mary.”

“Okay Mary. I’m glad you called. Would you like to talk to me about what you’re going through? We can talk about anything you’d like.”

“I’m not a freak,” Mary blurts out. “You know? Submissive, or whatever. I’m not. M’normal.”

“Okay,” Sharon says calmly. “Well just so you know, I’m not here to judge. I’m on the spectrum myself.”

Mary blows air through her teeth disdainfully—though deep down, she guesses it’s nice to know that. "So what," she mutters. "You're like, a submissive?

“I’m actually dominant, but I’m not going to do anything to try and boss you around or control you. I’m just here to listen to and support you.” 

“Oh.” She looks down at her glass, feeling like she doesn’t even want to finish drinking it. She’s tired … And sad. “Kay,” she mumbles. “Well I’m not. Like that.”

“You don’t think you have a designation disorder."

Designation disorder, pfft. Mary scoffs again. “Yeah, no.”

“Then why did you call tonight? Do you need someone to talk to?”

She grumbles unintelligibly, then repeats herself when the woman on the phone prompts her. “Some guy just gave me this number. He said that I was.”

“He said that you were what, Honey?”

“… Submissive.” She says the word quietly, embarrassed of it. “But what does he know, right?” She huffs. “Fucking stranger. He doesn’t know me.”

“Okay. What are you going through tonight?” Sharon asks, still sounding kind but also mildly worried. “Do you want to talk about that? About what made you call the hotline?”

Mary sniffles, feeling stupid. She’s suddenly tearing up and she doesn’t even know why. She wipes her eyes hastily and takes another big sip of her drink. “I’m drinking,” she says tearfully, bluntly, expecting to be scolded for it. "M'drunk."

“Okay,” Sharon says. She doesn’t sound mad. “Okay Mary, are you by yourself right now?”

“Yeah. M’in my apartment.”

“Okay. Okay. … Do you drink alone there often?”

Oh. That hits hard for some reason, and suddenly Mary’s crying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold back a sob.

“Mary? Are you there, Honey?”

Honey. Mary cries harder. That's what Bucky had called her. She likes hearing it, but also she feels desperately sad because it reminds her about how she’s all alone and doesn’t have someone to call her ‘Honey’ or ‘Doll’ or ‘good girl’. And nobody’s ever spanked her over their lap, either. 

“Mary?”

“Yeah,” she says, voice all choked up. “Yeah, m’here.”

“Okay. Good.” Mary can hear the sound of typing on the other end of the line. “How are you feeling Mary? Do you think we could make a plan together? Maybe drink some water and get you ready for bed? It’s late. You must be tired, huh?” 

Mary sniffles. “Um,”

“It’d make me so happy if we could make a plan, Mary. Would you do that for me?” 

“... Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s so great. Good girl.”

Mary’s face crumples. She’s not a good girl. She’s not good at all! 

Sharon hears her crying harder and asks worriedly what’s wrong. “Mary,” she says, voice sharper—stern-sounding. “Mary, you need to talk to me and tell me what’s happening.” 

“Sh-sharon?” Mary cries. “What I tell you is private, right? You won’t tell anyone or report me, will you?”

“... The goal is to keep you safe, Honey. I’m here to help you do that,” Sharon says. “You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

She sounds so kind and caring, so steady, and it makes Mary want to tell her everything. It’s been so hard, not having anyone to talk to. And anyway she’s already crying at this point, and it feels good in that way that crying sometimes does, so she might as well. It’s confidential.

She takes a deep breath, takes another big gulp from her glass, and starts spilling her guts to this stranger named Sharon over the phone.

Bucky’s phone rings early in the morning. He groans as he wakes up, grumpily reaching for it. He peeks at the red numbers of the alarm clock over on Steve’s side of the bed: 4:30 AM. 

If this is a robocall this early in the morning, he’s going to be tempted to commit capital murder. “Hello?” he rasps.

“Hello. Is this, um … ‘Bucky’?”

It’s a man’s voice. Bucky squints blearily up at the bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. “Yeah? Who is this?”

“Sir, my name is Officer Santiago with the New York Police Department. I’m calling from Holy Cross Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Bucky says, more alert at hearing that. “You’re a cop?” Why is a cop calling him? Bucky can’t think of a good reason.

“Yes Sir.”

He sits up in the bed. Beside him, Steve starts waking up, too. “Mmph, who is it?” he asks sleepily.

“What’s happened?” Bucky asks, dread already curling in his gut, imagining who could be hurt or dead at the hospital that they’re calling him at this hour …

“We have a woman here,” the officer says. “She called a crisis hotline. The operator was worried about her safety, she contacted us.”

“Those hotlines are supposed to be confidential,” Bucky growls.

“She was making threats of self harm. We had to pick her up. We’ve got her down here at the E.R. at Holy Cross. Involuntary hold.”

“Wait a minute ... What was the hotline she called?” Bucky asks, as the thought occurs to him and he hopes he’s wrong. “It wasn’t a D/s hotline, was it?” 

Beside him in the bed, Steve is grimacing and rubbing his eyes. “Babe?”

“Some submissive crisis line, yeah,” the officer says. 

Bucky’s heart sinks. The woman from the coffee shop yesterday. “Mary,” he murmurs, remembering how neat and cute her handwriting was on her nametag and on the side of his to-go cup. “Shit,” he says.

“She’s stable. She has minor self-inflicted injuries but nothing life threatening. We found your number in her phone.” Here is where the officer starts to sound uneasy. “You’re listed here as her, um … her Dom.”

“I … am?” Bucky’s eyebrows climb his forehead. He hadn’t thought the girl would keep his cell number, let alone save him as a contact. He’d thought he’d pissed her off, that she was too proud, too mortified.

“Babe, who is it?” Steve asks, awake now and frowning at Bucky in concern. He can tell something’s wrong. Bucky shushes him with a gesture and Steve’s face flashes with annoyance. Bucky gives him an apologetic wince.

“Specifically, you’re listed under ‘Asshole Dom Bucky’.” The officer clears his throat uncomfortably. “She wouldn’t give us a number to call, and department policy is to contact designation partners, if possible.”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell the officer that he’s not Mary’s partner, that he doesn’t even really know her. But he stops himself, thinking about what happens to subs who get dragged into the E.R. and go unclaimed. “I … yeah,” he hedges. “Yeah, that’s me.” After an awkward pause and feeling guilty for the lie, he checks, “You said she’s okay?”

“Yes. She’s pretty upset, and intoxicated. But the doctor checked her out and said she’s okay. Well … physically-speaking,” he adds awkwardly. “They’re ready to admit her.”

“Psych unit?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky sighs. “No. That’s not good. It’d be better if I came and got her.”

“Okay.” The officer sounds relieved. “She uh, she’s pretty upset.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” Bucky says. “What does that mean? Is she frantic?”

“She’s angry,” the officer says, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice low now. Bucky wonders if Mary is somewhere in the near vicinity of the officer. “Drunk and super pissed. Belligerent.”

“Is she restrained right now?” Bucky asks, worried.

“Yeah. Cuffed to the bed.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “She shouldn’t be restrained by a stranger. It’s not healthy for her. Can't you just watch her?”

“Sorry Sir, that’s our policy when we bring in the involuntary cases. We have to do it.”

Bucky is already up and heading to the closet to grab clothes. “Okay,” he says curtly. “I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there within the hour.”

The officer thanks him and Bucky hangs up. He looks back at Steve, who is propped up on his side and staring at him in something close to shock. 

“Buck, what the hell?”

Bucky winces and goes back to the bed. He climbs up and takes Steve’s hand. Steve isn’t on the spectrum, but his dynamic with Bucky has always been more on the subservient side. Bucky sees that he’s not mad, is just waiting for an explanation, so he takes a breath and tells him, “You remember the woman I told you about? The one at the coffee shop?”

Steve nods. “The lemon tarts.”

“Yeah, her. She’s in the hospital. A psych hold, that was the NYPD on the phone. Somehow they think I’m her Dom, and she’s being difficult. Won’t give ‘em a name of anybody they can release her to.”

“Oh, man.” Steve is well-educated on the intricacies of Designated people: He’s married to one, after all.

“Baby.” Bucky rubs the back of Steve’s hand. “I have to go get her.”

“You don’t ‘have’ to,” Steve corrects. He looks at Bucky knowingly. “But you want to, don’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or not. “I … yeah. I want to.” He and Steve have talked about the possibility of bringing another person into their marriage one day, a submissive to meet Bucky’s needs. Steve has always been open to the idea, especially since they’re both bisexual.

“We gonna try and make that work out?” 

Bucky scoffs. “That’s way down the road.”

“But it would be good for you too, wouldn’t it?” 

He shrugs, and then admits, “Yeah, probably.” Bucky’s what’s known as a ‘high needs’ dominant. The condition affects him more severely than it does others. He tries to figure out if Steve is at all upset by what they’re discussing. “It’s crazy, I know,” he says. “Not exactly what we always talked about. We don’t even know her.”

“But she’s in trouble,” Steve says. “And you were drawn to her.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t think she has anyone else to go to. And they’re talking about admitting her to the psych unit.”

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No. They won’t have the knowledge to help her. Places like that tend to use meds first and ask questions second.” He sees Steve’s wince and nods. “It could definitely make things worse.”

“What’s wrong with her? Subdrop?”

“I don’t know. Cop said she was self-harming and drinking. That’s all I know so far.”

Steve nods. “Can I go with you?” he looks hopeful and ready to jump into action, and Bucky is surprised—even though he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Babe, you want to do this? Bring her home? Take care of her?”

Steve nods, stalwart. “We should try. It’s the best option she has. If it works out, great. And if not … well we can get her the help she needs, at least.”

Bucky nods. Steve is on-board. He doesn’t think this is stupid, or crazy. Bucky’s chest swells with affection for him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Steve leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “I trust you,” he says. “And I love you.”

Bucky smiles, stupidly in-love with his husband. “Love you too, Stevie.”

They kiss once more, and then Steve is pulling back and clapping his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get going if we’re really doing this.” He hefts himself out of the bed, moving with purpose. “She’s waiting for us.”

Us, Bucky thinks happily, realizing that it’s true: They’re husbands—soulmates, in his opinion. They’re partners, an inseparable unit ever since the day they got married, and they do everything together. So it’ll be the two of them taking care of this woman together. They’ll be a team, each giving her what she needs in their own ways. And maybe it’ll go somewhere, who knows? Thinking about it makes Bucky feel settled and satisfied inside, the barest ghost of the sort of feeling he gets from domming someone.

Impulsive as it is, he’s got a hunch that this is the right decision.

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[saratinz]

Maneater (Prologue)

pairing ➩ Ex!Bucky Barnes x Promiscuous!Reader (College AU)

series warnings ➩ drinking, asshole!Bucky, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, love triangle, smut, slut shaming, cursing

chapter warnings ➩ cursing, mentions sex and slut shaming, 0.2 second mention of abuse, bleak perspective on love

synopsis ➩ A little introduction to some of our characters

word count ➩ 550

You’re not ashamed to admit that you sleep around. College is all about new experiences, and that comes with mistakes. It’s fair to say that you have made enough mistakes to last a lifetime. Although, you wouldn’t say your sexuality stems from immaturity. You want to feel good, and sometimes that means sleeping with some hot guy from your psych class. As long as people aren’t being dickheads, you don’t give a damn about what they do. Others don't seem to have the same mindset though.

You suppose men don’t really understand you, they treat you like you’re so different. But you think it’s the exact opposite, you’re so much like them that it pisses them off that you would dare stray from their ideal portrayal of femininity. I mean, it’s so terrible that you have an active sex life, that you can enjoy a relationship that’s strictly sex. I guess you’re just weird, right? Wait, but what about a guy who has fucked 60% of the female population on campus? That’s completely acceptable? You could sit here and whine about the double standard for hours, but that’s just a waste of time. Y’know, it’s sad, but you just had to accept that socially speaking, you’re a pathetic slut, and guys like Bucky Barnes are gods among men. During sophomore year you realized if a whore is all they see, you should just stop holding back and be the biggest whore they’ve ever met. And you haven’t gone back on that.

Back to James “Bucky” Barnes. Hot, muscular, playboy, quarterback, and your douchebag ex boyfriend. Though, you use the term boyfriend loosely because the relationship was more complex than that. Well, in the way that you were hopelessly in love with him and he liked that he was the first one to touch you. The story has been told a million times before. Guy takes an interest in the innocent girl who has a crush, but soon he fucks it up. And it always ends in one of two ways, either the guy realizes he’s in love and gets the girl back with a huge romantic gesture, or she ends up with someone else who treats her like a princess. But your life is not a fairytale. It’s not a rom com. The idea of love seems so foreign, plus, you know you’ll just end up getting hurt if a hook-up gets more intimate. Almost all romantic relationships end and you were so numbed by the pain from Bucky that every aspect of love seems fabricated. Someone came up with this idea and everyone went along with it, tricking themselves into caring about shitty abusers and pathetic cheaters. Love blinds you with its pretty face, the lifelong happiness it offers is the biggest empty promise. Love is for fools who think they have some soulmate that they’ll see one day and know, deep down, that they are meant to be together. Even thinking about the people who say that makes you cringe. In the end, people see what they want to see, that is until the reality of the situation hits like a freight train.

Masterlist / Next chapter

[not-that-syndrigast]

Codywan stucky au??

I am pretty sure i already thought of that or read that somewhere but why do i always fall for the same shipping tropes (friends to lovers to enemys to ??? To lovers)

Back to business, okay we had codywan as great friends and shit but then, oh no, lets just say in this scenario somehow cody gets kidnapped but palps activates his chip to get rid of obi wan and obi wan is obviously steve in this so cody attacks him but obi wan quickly realizes "shit, thats cody!" And hes like "no, your my friend, i wont hurt you!" And bam, chip malfunctions and they live a happily ever after.

Or something

[innerslumber]

Oh Navya, you must tell me more about this Marine Biologist Enemies to Lovers AU story you have going. ☺️💞

Hello Mel!!!! Thank you for the ask!!!

Okay, so I was going through a few different ideas but what I ultimately settled on was that Bucky and Steve are both marine biologists and rivals/nemesis in their fields. They don't actually know each other very well but they went to rival schools, other scientists are constantly comparing them and there mayyyy have been a few passive aggressive academic peer reviews.

But they end up on the same boat for an expedition because of grant/funding issues and also because their work can overlap and probably help both of their research. They are NOT enthused about this but the choice has been taken out of their hands.

And it's definitely a meet ugly because there has now been years of assumptions and petty shit talking and they are just being assholes to each other. Meanwhile the rest of the crew see the writing on the wall and a betting pool starts to see when they finally just fuck it out.

Unfortunately, both Bucky and Steve learn about the bet and refuse to give into the sexual tension because that's LOSING so fuck that!

But Bucky thinks he's going to go catatonic because Steve is allergic to clothes and constantly just walks around in tiny shorts or lounging with an open wetsuit.

And if it was just lust, Bucky could handle it but Steve turns out not to be the arrogant prick he thought was. He's a great team leader, knowledgeable and so fucking competent. That drives Bucky up the wall because he has a competency kink a mile wide.

As for Steve, he thought Bucky was going to just lock himself in the lab and be a demanding jerk who won't be a team player. Instead, Bucky is right there with everyone getting dirty and working his ass off even though he has less field experience than Steve. And Steve will swallow knives before he admits it but he loves how Bucky's face lights up when he talks about his work. Because it's so obvious how much Bucky cares about the ocean, its creatures, and wants to protect everything about it.

Something will eventually give of course but who's going to trip up first? 😏😏😏