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#(ironically he would NOT really be excited for the barbie movie lol)
mylas-stash · 10 months
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sparkle on! It's Wednesday! :3
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kenzieam · 6 years
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Druid - Chapter One
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Rating: M (smut, language, violence, mature themes, potential major character death)
Genre: Drama/Angst
@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff  @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815 @shirukitsune @chook007
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Alright.... here’s another Bucky AU with my OFC, Levi.
Bucky is the President of the Druids MC and Levi is back in town to take care of her dying father. They meet through mutual friends and Bucky is immediately (still) taken with the girl he secretly fantasized about in high school, but he’s an outlaw biker and she has a life halfway across the country, will Bucky have a chance to make her his???
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Some of you might recognize parallels to other stories of mine, like “The Reaper and the Vixen” and “It’s Time” but this is my blog lol and if I want to borrow, I will.
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LEV
Nothing had changed, not that I expected it to. Small towns don’t grow, they just endure.  
I left home ten years ago, last visited almost three years ago, but it’s like I’ve only been gone a week. I’m sure that Tony’s Diner down at the corner still has the same faded papers taped to the glass, advertising Gerald Sampson’s old ‘78 Ford truck for sale (runs like a top, uh huh) and the same tired request for a part-time waitress; especially if Tony’s wife Pepper is still there, she runs the diner with an iron fist and military precision (that somehow never extends to updating the posters), a humorous contrast to Tony’s almost chronic easy-going nature. He'd rather spend his time tinkering in his workshop than anywhere else, while Pepper oversees the breakfast specials.
I still wouldn’t have come back, to this quiet little corner of northern California, if it wasn’t for my Dad. He did not bad after Mom died, slowing down and sitting back, but now he’s gotten sick. I try to be optimistic, but he isn’t, he’s ready to be back with Mom and I can’t help but let this color my view of the town as I drive through it. Everything’s darker, sombre, stuck.
I’ve taken the long way around, for whatever reason, and can’t help but crane my neck as I pass Panhead Joe’s, a local bar. I tended to avoid this side of town when I lived here, but I knew even as a kid that it was a biker bar; still, I’m not prepared for the array of Harley’s parked outside, even though it’s only late afternoon.  
A few bikers mill around, leaning on the railing outside the bar or against bikes. There seems to be a common theme amongst them, all are wearing black leather vests with a large patch across the shoulders. I’ve seen enough Sons of Anarchy to know what this means, and while it flutters in the back of my mind that there’s always been an MC in town, it never really dawned on me as a child what that meant. We’d lived on the opposite end of town, where huge trees shaded the yards and streets, and people still sat out on their covered porches at night while the neighborhood children organized street-wide hide and seek or games of tag.  
A tall blonde draws my attention but I look away, pressing the gas a little harder when he looks up to meet my gaze. There’s something familiar about him, even with his black t-shirt, jeans and leather vest.  
Steve? Steve Rogers, the head jock of our small but spirited sports program? I would have assumed he’d left long ago, on an athletic scholarship or something, but here he is, leaning against a chromed-up Harley. He frowns at me, stuck in the same ‘who’s that?’ moment and I stare straight ahead, hoping he doesn’t recognize me and start spreading the word. Although I didn’t leave town on bad terms, I still left and, I plan to again, sooner rather than later.  
The streets grow softer and more familiar and too soon, I’m turning into the driveway of my childhood home. A charming Craftsman, I used to love sitting on the verandah out front, holding court with my eclectic mix of barbies and ninja turtles and while a swell of nostalgia hits me, so does sorrow. I haven’t asked Dad what he plans on doing with the house, or anything else... after, but I’m going to need to soon.  
The car ticks as I turn it off, it’s been a long drive from Houston, where I’ve lived since leaving here. My back cracks as I stand and I stretch backwards with a groan, feeling the skin pull on the back of my right shoulder. Chap just finished my newest tattoo before I left and it’s still tender under the bandage.  
What started as a source of income while I was in school soon turned into my chosen career and, while I finished my classes, my degree sits gathering dust while I happily work at Sweetheart Ink, popular tattoo artist and body piercer with a large client base waiting on me to return. Needless to say, it was hard to tell who was more surprised at my abrupt career detour, my parents or me, but I haven’t regretted it.
“Levi.” Dad’s voice is a far cry from the deep baritone I remember from childhood, and he’s lost weight too. A sharp stab of reality hits me, this is real. Dad is dying and I didn’t really sink in until seeing him just now.  
I stand there like installation art for a minute, like a skipping record until Dad grabs me in a tight hug. “Good to see you, Bug.”  
I choke a “Hi, Dad,” in return, and hear his soft, rueful chuckle in return.
“That bad, huh?”
“No! I, uh...”
“It’s okay, Bug; I might look like shit but I don’t feel too bad, just tired. Glad you could stay for a while.” He’s so casual about it that I almost start crying and he tightens his arms around me. “It’s good to see you honey, don’t cry.”
I nod, sniffling hard and straighten, pulling away and suppressing a shudder at the bones I felt poking through my Dad’s sallow skin. He hasn’t really elaborated about what’s making him sick beyond its terminal, non-contagious and he’s decided to just live what time he has left rather than trying any treatments. He didn’t even tell me he was sick until a few weeks ago, keeping it hidden and passing off his weakened voice as mere tiredness. He’s already made all the arrangements for his funeral, but he’s always been practical and organized and it’s a small comfort to know he’s going out the way he chooses to. Mom’s death was sudden and unexpected, a hidden intersection and missed stop sign; Dad’s will be the opposite.
“Come in, Bug; I haven’t started anything for supper yet, I was wondering if you wanted to order a pizza or something.”
“Popo’s delivers now?” They never did before, they didn’t need to, people came from miles around for their pizzas.
“Popo’s is closed.” Dad replies and, at my strangled exclamation, nods in understanding. That was one of my favorite hang-outs as a student, me and the rest of the high school. “Old Popo retired to Florida, last I heard.”
“Huh, what’s left then?”
“There’s a couple to choose from.” Dad taps a mess of menus taped to the fridge as he walks into the kitchen and I stare blankly at them.  
“Oh, hey. I ran into your old friend... Nat? She was asking about you and I said you were coming up for a while, she left her number to call if you want.”
Well that makes sense. Why I saw Steve Rogers still in town, he and Nat were hot and heavy in high school; looks like they’ve stayed together. Shit, they’re probably married by now, maybe a couple kids. I never stayed in contact after I left.  
My stomach growls, interrupting my musings and I turn my attention back to the menus before settling on a place and grabbing the phone.  
Two hours later, Dad’s nodding asleep in his armchair and I’m fidgeting nervously. I’m keyed up and restless, not yet ready to try and sleep.
“Go out and have some fun, Bug.” Dad mumbles, startling me out of my thoughts. He stands slowly, shuffling over to me and patting my shoulder. “I’ll be fine, I’m heading to bed. Go on.”
I’m hesitant, chewing on my lip before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”
“You want money for the movies?” He teases and I laugh, shaking my head.  
“Maybe call up Nat,” he throws over his shoulder as he leaves the room and I frown thoughtfully. It’s not late by any stretch, maybe we could meet up for a drink or something. Surely they have Uber here if I get tipsy. I reach for my cell.
“Hello?” The voice at the other end is familiar, but tentative. I hear muffled music in the background, loud voices; at least I didn’t wake her up.  
“Hi, Nat? It’s Levi.”
“Levi?! Oh my god, hi! Your dad said you were coming up, are you here now?” She’s all excited energy, practically humming over the line and I feel my spirits lifting.
“Yeah, just got in this afternoon.”
“You want to meet up?”  
“Uh... yeah, sure. Where at?”  
“I’m down at Panhead’s now, come on over!”
“Panhead’s? The biker bar?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you a biker?”
She laughs. “No, my husband is. You’ll be safe; come on girl, hurry up!”
…........ “Okay, give me a half-hour.”  
“Sure, I’m so excited!” She hangs up mid-squeal and I stare at my phone for a long moment before standing and walking to my room. What does one wear to a biker bar? Jeans probably, tank top? I quickly clean up and dress, pulling on my cropped jacket and pushing my feet into the only boots I own, ones I tossed in the car almost as an afterthought yesterday as I was leaving.  
I poke my head into Dad’s room, but he’s already asleep. I write a quick note and leave it on his bedside table then leave.
It doesn’t take long to reach Panhead’s, and I park nearby, clearing my throat nervously as more than one head swivels my way in sudden interest.
“Levi?! You look amazing!” Nat all but shrieks, appearing from the front door and rushing at me. I’m engulfed in a tight hug that wraps me in her yummy, familiar perfume, stuff she’s rocked since high school. Can’t mess with a classic. She pushes me away far enough to look me up and down and grins widely. She’s grown up, but still looks the same; beautiful reddish hair and sweet smile, she probably still gets ID’d. It takes a moment for me to register this and then a tall figure is towering beside her. I notice vaguely that all the interested onlookers have looked away, as if scared.
“Levi, you remember my husband, Steve?”
Holy shit, yes. The very man I saw outside this bar earlier, dressed in a black biker vest and leaning against a bike. Wait...
“Hi Levi, welcome back.” Steve’s voice is rough and deep, but still kind. He always was a sweetie, even in school when most boys are preoccupied with showing off and whistling at girls. It takes a moment for my eyes to register the patches on his vest. V. President on the right side, Captain on the other; I look over to Nat, see she’s wearing a similar vest.
“Wait, you’re in a motorcycle club?” I should have realized sooner, but I’m a little slow sometimes.  
Nat smiles and turns, showing me the Property of Captain patch across her back. She turns back, smiling and Steve pulls her closer with one massive arm, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, Steve’s the VP of the Druids.”
“The Druids?” Oh yeah, the club that hung around town. They never really blipped on my radar as a child, none of my family were a part of it, so I never really paid attention to them. “Oh, wow.”
Nat giggles at me. “Steve got involved with them after high school and loved it.” She reaches for me. “C’mon, the guys are nice.” I let her pull me along, one arm slung over my shoulder and try to relax.  
The bar is rocking, music loud and voices even louder. The crowd parts as Steve walks through, holding Nat’s hand and I’m still trying to reconcile the Steve in front of me with the boy I knew in high school. Steve’s hair is crew-cut short, and stubble darkens his cheeks, but other than that, he looks rather tame for a biker, but I catch the sight of ink on his biceps, and crawling up his neck.  
There’re more leather-clad men seated at the table Steve brings us to with women scattered about as well, either perched on chair arms or directly on laps. Nat pushes me to sit in the booth then Steve sits beside me, pulling Nat into his lap.  
I’m introduced to the table and recognize a few faces. Another pal from high school, Wanda, is seated on the lap of a man named Hawkeye, and is wearing his patch, but none of the other women are and Nat leans over and murmurs that they’re club girls, unattached and available to all the men. She and Wanda are the only ol’ ladies here tonight.  
The big surprise is the man directly across from me. A blond is preening in his lap and his hand rests on her bare thigh, but he’s too busy talking with others at the table to speak to her. Steve introduced him as Cannon, and his patch says President. It takes a second, but I finally recognize him, and understand my surprise.  
“Bucky?” I gasp, then clap my mouth shut, blushing. Fortunately, only he and Steve heard me and Steve starts laughing, slapping his mitt on the table. “Sorry.” I choke, face burning.  
Bucky smiles at me, softening the harsh lines on his face. He’s big now, as thick and powerful as Steve, maybe even more so and the fluffy hair I remember from high school is shoulder length, his cheeks dark with stubble. But the clear, deep blue eyes are the same.  
We didn’t hang out in high school, but Bucky stood out to me because he and Steve were best friends, but seemed exact opposites. While Steve was gregarious and sweet, Bucky was silent and brooding. Steve was All-American blond, Bucky was dark. Steve was the jock, Bucky the shadow. I know he took a bunch of shop mechanic classes while I labored away in the college prep courses and yeah, if I’m going to be honest, I may have had a tiny bit of a crush on him too. I never acted on it though, and to be honest again, he’s hardly entered my thoughts since I’d left. The last place I expected to see him again was at a biker bar, and the President, no less.  
“Hey, Levi. How you been?” His voice is soft and deep, a hint of growl.
“Good,” I reply, relieved my voice sounds strong, even though I’m still on edge. While nobody at the table has been rude to me, there’s still a powerful vibe to them that I attribute to their club status. You don’t become part of an MC by being a pansy. Nat’s words echo in my mind, ‘you’ll be safe, the guys are nice’. Yeah sure, as long as you weren’t an enemy.
“What have you been up to all these years?” Wanda speaks now, leaning forwards. The blond man, Hawkeye, wraps a hand casually on her hip for support then turns his head to talk with another man. He seems used to Wanda’s squirming.
“I uh...” I pause, surely they don’t want the boring history of my life? “I live in Houston, work as a tattooist and body piercer.”
“I thought you went to University there?” Bucky asks and I pause again. What? Was he keeping tabs on me in high school?
“Yeah, but I got into body mod for extra cash and loved it, so I went into it instead.”
Hawkeye has turned his attention back to our conversation and hoots, slapping Bucky on one massive shoulder. “Hey! You gotta get one now, no excuses, Prez!” Wanda and Nat simultaneously roll their eyes and I sense this is an old argument.
“Get what now?”  
The faintest flush colors Bucky’s cheeks and he looks away as Hawkeye chirps merrily. “A dick piercing! I keep telling him it’s worth it, I-” He breaks off as Wanda swats at his head with a giggle and I can’t help a snort of laughter. Alright, if they’re going to trot out this particular horse, I’ll take it for a ride too.
“I don’t know,” I pretend to think. “Not every guy has the right anatomy for one-” this causes an explosion of laughter and good-natured ribbing and Bucky throws me an amused glance.
“You wanna check, doll?” He rasps, raising a brow.
Well, I walked into that one. “Not every guy can handle the pain.” And I keep right on digging myself deeper.  
“Don’t worry doll, I like a little pain.”  
Alright then. Time to double down. “Well, I brought my kit if you want to try?”
The guys explode, roaring with mirth and I lean back as Nat giggles in my ear. “You’re such a tease, Levi. You were so quiet in school, what happened?”
I shrug, I hardly know myself. I’ve certainly never discussed dick piercings like this before.
Bucky leans across the table and winks at me. “Whenever you’re up for it, dollface.”
Wow.  
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint, loud voices interrupt my reply and everyone at the table swivels their head to the door. There’re sounds of a brief struggle, then a few dull thuds that register to my slow brain as punches, then cheers. I look back at the table to see the men have relaxed again, but I don’t miss that each one has a hand in their vest, as if reaching for a weapon. A booming voice interrupts my musing.
“And who is this delectable beauty?” I look up in stunned silence to the speaker. ‘Delectable beauty’? Me? A towering blond man pulls a chair over, turning it backwards and sitting at the table, reaching across Steve and Nat to offer me his hand. His grin is wide and infectious and I still can’t get over his height, Jesus, he’s got a few inches on Steve even. I remember his question, and lean over to take it.
“Hi, I’m Levi.”
“Levi,” his faint accent does amazing things to my name. “I’m Hammer.”  
I glance belatedly at his vest. He’s the Sergeant-at-Arms, that explains the size and his bouncer act. “Was Thor already taken?” I blurt, going instantly red.
He seems unperturbed, even grinning wider. “That’s my given name, my lady; I’ll answer to both.”
The table roars again, but I catch a faint scowl cross Bucky’s face, huh?
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