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starseneyes · 1 year

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Chenford REWIND - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 2 Ep 14

"Casualties" AKA Who Let the Dog Out!?

This one came in as a request, and it's a great one. I can't believe I hadn't gotten to it, yet! There's some really beautiful stuff in here for both Tim and Lucy, even if nothing's quite romantic for Chenford at this phase of their relationship. We are inching toward friendship, and very nearly there, in my humble opinion.

SPOILER ALERT: If you're looking for a spoiler-free place, this ain't it. I do try to write these without using foreknowledge of what happens beyond the episode, but I absolutely spoil everything in it and reference everything that came before.

You're not turning back? Awesome. Let's dive in!

"Yeah, dogs are super helpful for trauma recovery."

Lucy has gone through her list of all the things that could help her work through her trauma. Before she even got back to work, she'd worked through more than most.

It's a very... logical way of working through. Fed by her mother's influence and her own studies, Lucy tried to talk herself through trauma. It was enough to get her cleared at work, but we all know it's still there. Trauma doesn't just go away because you go through enough exercises.

Trauma lives in the pit of your stomach, the center of your soul, the deep recesses of your mind. You can't dislodge it. But you can learn how to heal and live with it.

Lucy looking for a therapy dog and jumping straight in is a way outta left field decision. But, I think it's consistent with Lucy's personality, funny enough. She doesn't tend to hang back and wait for life to happen. If she wants something, she's confident enough to go after it.

You might be wondering why is it different with Tim? I mean, Season 2 era Lucy is nowhere near ready to jump Tim's bones. They're building their friendship, and finding their way.

This isn't "two people meet and hit it off". This is "two people meet and want to hit a wall".

Lucy and Tim don't start off as enemies, but they do start off with Tim in the role of antagonist. He's the source of a lot of Lucy's frustrations and struggles early in her career. And while Lucy is a good person who sees the good in people (even Tim), he's not to a point where he'd be open enough to trust her with all of it.

We're getting there. And this episode shows a lot of growth on that front. But the relationship that Tim and Lucy will build is so important. They battled one another and the world to build it. They fought each other and the fire. They had to come through hit after hit after hit together.

The armor Tim wears so loudly will eventually clatter and clang to the floor in Lucy's presence. We can see it coming. But Lucy won't be tearing it off of him. It'll fall as Tim releases it.

Lucy doesn't yet want Tim. So, she's not going after him. And if the day comes when she does want him, it'll be a completely different entry to a romantic relationship from any she's ever had before. At no stage in their relationship is this like anything Lucy's had before. And the same for Tim.

That's what makes it so damn special.

Lucy's not ready for Tim, and he sure as hell isn't ready for her. But, in the meantime, some not-thinking-it-through part of Lucy thinks she's ready for a puppy.

"Before I get started with the morning's business, I want to thank everyone, again, for all their hard work on the Rosalind Dyer case."

Tim's jaw clenches and he glances Lucy's way. He's not going to make a big show in Roll Call, but that's just enough for us to know he's thinking of Lucy.

"That was a... difficult time."

Lucy doesn't want the attention. Remember how she didn't want to be applauded when she came back the first day? She doesn't want the reminder. It's still really fresh, and she likes to think she's moved past it.

We all know that she is still working through, but Lucy wants to be "back to normal" with everything in her.

"Getting a dog is a big mistake." "I don't remember asking you." "Well, tough. It's my job to train you how to succeed. And adding a dependent is only going to distract you."

We've come a long way from Tim saying that scaring Rookies off was his job. He really wants Lucy to succeed. He wants her to do well. He knows how tough she is. He just has to help her fully get her bearings as a cop before she's on her own.

And while a dog technically falls into her personal life (which we do not discuss on-the-job *cough*bullshit*cough*), Tim feels the need to speak up.

"Just face it, you don't like dogs." "Wrong. I love dogs."

So why doesn't he have a dog? Did Isabel not like dogs? Is that why he's a guy who loves dogs, but doesn't have one?

This really bothers me! Like, Tim Bradford should get to have a dog! Talk about another human with some trauma who could really use some snuggles and huggles.

"I just think they're a lot of responsibility, and I'm not sure you're ready for it."

This—being a cop—is the thing she's taken most seriously in her life, right? So, Tim might not be far off. Then again, nobody asked you, suckaah!

Yes, I'm being immature. But, wow, was that statement condescending from Tim.

"But you were when you were my age?" "At your age I'd done two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, the second in charge of a squad of 10 soldiers." "Show off." "What was that?" "Hm?"

I kinda love her slipping that in, but I also hurt for both of them in this scene. One of those classic, "We don't know each other well enough to know why this hurts" situations.

Lucy is insecure about how long it's taken her to find a path. She thinks Tim is showing off, but he ran to the military to take him away from his father. He dove headlong into his work because he thought it would give him the worth he lacked.

So, neither of them is trying to injure the other. But Lucy feels judged, while Tim's past was never about earning accolades and success. It was about feeling worthy as a human being.

Wow, these two have a lot to unpack in the future.

"I'll be right there." "Right where." "My apartment." "Not unless it's a crime scene."

But. They. Go. Like, I know it's there for comedic detail that we have the POV of the door opening to view the carnage for ourselves. But, there had to have been a conversation between Tim and Lucy where she wore him down enough that they went to her apartment.

Tim could have stuck to his "No", but he didn't. Because he already sees Lucy differently, and he's already making exceptions for her. Now, he can rationalize them away, but she has a special place in his heart.

No, it's not romantic. Tim's not about to make love to her on the wreckage of her couch. But they are quickly becoming friends, and have a special soul-level bond that's developed.

"Sit." "How did you do that?" "Come on."

Tim's "Come on" had me cracking up. I can only think of hearing it one other time in early Season 5. But, I love the confidence that goes along with it.

Tim doesn't believe in himself as a man. He doesn't see his worth as a human. But as a soldier? As a cop? As a TO? That makes sense to him. It's tangible, as he would say.

"This is Jackson's Varsity Jacket. He's gonna be so upset." "I don't really have to say anything, do I?"

Tim. Takes. The. Picture. It's the weirdest love language—taking awkward photos of one another—but it's one they share. And I love that for them.

She doesn't even protest the photo. She knows it's coming.

"Mitch?" "Sarge." "Sarge?"

And this is why we had to remind ourselves about Tim's background at the top of the episode. So this story-line would make sense, and we wouldn't waste time in this scene explaining it. The impact hits harder that way.

Another thing that strikes me is that he and Mitch haven't seen each other in probably a decade. But he remembers his name. I'm terrible with names, myself, so I'm impressed by Tim's memory.

"He doesn't seem to like you very much."

Who does? And I say that with a lot of love, but Tim Bradford's not the cuddly type. Most people don't like Tim.

And, honestly, I didn't notice anything particular out of the ordinary with this one. But, perhaps Lucy expected a better relationship between Tim and his old squad. Tim, however, is ready for hostility.

"I'm the reason he lost his leg."

He blames himself. The same way he blames himself for Caleb. He's "what if-ing" through life, thinking that if he'd just veered left instead of right, it would have been okay. Or it could have been so much worse.

I once watched a fender bender happen in real time about 200 feet away. I briefly got caught up in the backup and was annoyed. I thought, "If only I'd been one minute ahead of schedule, we would have been past this."

Then I realized, if I'd been 30 seconds earlier that could have been me. So, yeah, I could what-if in one direction or the other. But it truly wasn't about me. Other factors were involved.

Tim didn't take Mitch's leg. But, Tim sees every failing as a personal one. It's part of the trauma he still carries.

Also to note, Tim doesn't have to tell her why. But he does. And I think it's because he feels that he failed her once, too. He feels like he almost owes it to her to tell her.

"So that's it. We walk away." "If we're smart." "That's... not a yes."

First off, I love this group. Two Rookies. Two TOs. Tim and Nyla could tell the other two to cut out now, but they don't. These two have proven themselves a number of times. So, though they have more to learn and further to go, they're a part of this.

Also, Nyla's crafty, and I always appreciate that. Her character has a little bit of an edge because of all she's survived. She has her own traumas, but watching her mind work... you can feel she's going places.

"You remember the personal questions they ask you for clearance, right?" "Yeah." *realization* "Maybe you should all... step outside." "Not a chance." "I think you shou-"

Oh, Timmy. In the words of my generation, you're boned.

"Bethesda. Left clavicle. Uh, Lady Marmalade."

He can't look at them, but Lucy is loving that one. Imagine Tim Bradford at the club. It could be the 70's version, but I'm betting it's not, and I'm betting that Lucy's imagining Tim Bradford dancing and having a giggle.

He's actually not a bad dancer, Lucy. Future Rachel knows this, and hopes you will, one day, too.

As for this questions... Guessing Mom was born in Bethesda. First bone he ever broke was Left Clavicle (ouch) and Lady Marmalade is his favorite song. We can roll with that, right?

"Tarantulas. Uh, yeah, it's Xanadu." "Xanadu?"

Afraid of Tarantulas (possibly a childhood fear). And since we know his favorite movie isn't Xanadu based on Season 5 (unless he has two favorites), I'm going to go with the first movie he saw in theaters, maybe?

Yes, if we're saying Tim was born roughly 1980 he was born the year it came out, but I've seen enough infants in the theater in my lifetime of watching movies. Also, 80's babies represent.

And, yes, I know Eric Winter's really a 70's baby. But, I know little-to-nothing about the actor (save the fact that he's mad talented and seems nice), and Tim and I could go get a drink and be sarcastic together.

The Weak Link

Did anyone else wonder how that obviously off-camera conversation went? None of them were surprised that Nolan got the visit.

Like, Nyla or Tim really said, "Nolan, you're the weak link" and he had to say, "Why me!?" Too much of a comedic scene for the tone of this episode, but it had me rolling thinking about it.

"We can follow him wherever he goes." "Great. Let's hit the road." "No, this is a two-person job. Harper and I got it from here." "Uh, screw that. You go. We go."

Cute. Real cute, Tim. But there's no way you're cutting Lucy Chen out of this mission.

"That's admirable, really. But if this thing goes sideways, we could face demotion, suspension, even jail." "I've got a golden ticket. Bradford has an unblemished record. Odds are we can weather the storm. Rookies are at-will employees. They don't even need a reason to fire you."

This is for us. The audience. They're reminding us what's at stake if Lucy and Nolan get involved. It helps add to the drama, yes, but getting that exposition in gracefully is always a task, and I think it's handled well here.

"Okay, well, with all due respect, I've been buried alive by a serial killer. This rabbit hole does not scare me."

Fuck. Yeah. Lucy's not afraid of what's to come. She's been through more than most and came out the other side bruised and battered, but still wholly her. I feel like Tim lost a lot of himself in his trauma. Lucy didn't.

We all react to trauma differently. We all process it differently. And while it's still super fresh for Lucy, she's working through it her way.

And she knows Nyla's the one she needs to convince. Tim has a soft spot for Lucy where this is concerned. Whether Lucy consciously notices it, we're unsure at this point. But it's there and I think a part of her knows it.

Nyla doesn't have as much give for Lucy. She's all about Lucy facing it. And Lucy's telling Nyla right now that she's ready to face this. Whatever happens.

"Why are you the reason Mitch lost his leg?" "'Cause I let him slide on something. It doesn't matter what, just that I cut him a break when I shouldn't have, and because I did he went back out on patrol, got blown up."

Tim tortures himself, picking up where his father left off. Yes, this is a little bit of Future Knowledge leaking into the review, but I don't think that's too much to give away. Tim grew up in a hostile environment with emotional, physical, and psychological abuse.

His brain was trained to see himself a certain way from birth. He was tormented for his lack of perfection, for his lack of manhood, for his inability to ever. get. it. right.

It didn't matter how hard Tim tried. He could have been perfect, and it still wouldn't have been enough to earn his father's love. Because that's how it was always framed... love had to be earned. It wasn't given freely.

And like so many of us who grew up in darkness, Tim tries to extend better to those around him. What little light Tim has, he gives away. But he can't extend that same courtesy to himself.

So, when he sees an imperfection or failing—even if it's only perceived and not actual—he can't forgive himself.

It's the same with Lucy... with hoe he failed her by putting her in Caleb's path. Now, you and I know that's not what happened. But Tim believes it. He believes he's the reason Lucy suffered so.

"If only I'd..." Oh, Tim. I've been there a million times. Some things you couldn't change. And you can't spend your life beating yourself up about things that were obviously out of your control. You don't have to be perfect. It's not all on you.

But he's been trained that it is... that it's his fault. That it's his failings. That he missed the mark... and because of that, bad things happen.

"That is the most Tim Bradford thing I've ever heard. You showed humanity. There's nothing to feel guilty about." "Rules matter, Boot."

Throwing in that "Boot" to put distance between them, again. He does that when Lucy's getting too close... reminds her of her place.

He's still trying to pretend they aren't becoming friends, that his supposedly impenetrable walls of separation between professional and personal haven't started to warble in her presence.

"Then what the hell are you doing out here?" "Some things matter more."

Ohhh, this line. Yes, he's thinking of Mitch, here. But he's also thinking of Lucy. And every other time he stepped outside of the lines for someone who truly mattered.

She doesn't know what he did for her. Tim never reported it, and Jackson sure as hell said nothing. Tim threatened a guy and smashed his head against the steering wheel. It was a piece of himself that he gave that she knows nothing about.

But Tim remembers. He remembers how he felt when he knew he had failed Lucy. Now, he feels like he failed Mitch once, and he's not going to do it, again.

Some thing matter more, Lucy. You matter more. And you don't even know it, yet.

"Bradford. Chen. Let's go." "Hang on. First lesson in black ops, make sure the lights don't come on when you open the door."

He's actually teaching her and not working it into a crazy test. Not the time to let her fail, right Bradford?

"I actually liked Kojo. Did he go to a good home?" "Yeah. He did."

"Home." Kojo went to a home. And I can't help but get a little choked up thinking that Lucy believes Tim Bradford can provide that pupper a home. Not just a house or a place but somewhere where Kojo will feel safe... and loved.

Yes, Lucy, Tim is capable of all of that. And you already know it. Someday, someday, you might be ready to have that with Tim Bradford. But all the way back mid-season 2, you already knew it.

Part of me wishes we could have heard the conversation that led to Tim taking Kojo. Yes, I know it would have ruined the reveal. But, I wonder which of them suggested it, and which of them went along with it.

This is also another connection point between Tim and Lucy—this dog. They have lots of heartbreaking moments nobody knows but them. They have the moonstone ring. But now they have this ball of life in an energetic pupper who just needs a little structure and love.

Bit by bit, Lucy and Tim are drawing closer to one another, the threads of their stories crossing more and more until they weave into one another's seamlessly down the line... at least, I hope.

Tim Helps Mitch

The last time Tim saw Mitch, he thought he was going to be okay. He had a job lined up. He had good things coming. Finding out Mitch had a hard run of life was tough on Tim. It brought everything back up to the surface.

Now that he knows Mitch is in need, he has to do something to help.

This is the legacy of Tim and Lucy… all the little things they do to help each other and others. Both of them have a natural inclination to do more than talk—they show the people in their lives that they matter. "Some thing matter more", right?

So, Tim helps Mitch.

"Look, it's not a handout, alright? It's a job and a roof over your head." "Thanks." "You're welcome."

Tim has a lot of bull-headed guys in his life (gee, I wonder why), so he knows what to say to help Mitch be receptive to this offering.

Also, I love how secure Tim is with hugs. He's a good hugger.

"It's not your fault, you know? You know, what happened to me? It's nobody's fault."

He. Needs. To. Hear. This. Tim might be tough on others, but he's even tougher on himself. He doesn't know how to give himself forgiveness. He doesn't know how to give himself grace. He doesn't know how to believe there's good in him beyond what he can offer in his profession.

Tim, you'll get there, someday. Those pieces of you will start to heal. You won't erase your trauma, no, but you'll smile, again. Even though right now you're trying not to cry.

"Not a word.

This had me rolling. Like Lucy, Kojo is quickly in tune with Tim's emotions. And while one of his first conversations with Lucy was about how she wouldn't "say anything" about Isabel, he's now felling Kojo to keep his trap shut, too. And that's strangely perfectly appropriate for the dog they now share.

This episode is one that I really love because it starts to break down the Rookie vs TO barriers. All 5 of them were in on this together. They had to face the consequences together.

Are there still going to be issues? Yes. Still barriers? Yes. But we're at a point where we're laying the foundation for where we'll get in future seasons.

As for Tim and Lucy? They're on their way. Season 2 is about the two of them really becoming friends and solidifying their significance in one another's lives. We know that even after she finishes out her Rookie year, they'll be in each other's lives.

As always, thank you for reading! And thanks for the request. See you on the next!

#Chenford #Lucy Chen #Tim Bradford #Melissa O'Neil #Eric Winter #Lucy x Tim #Tim x Lucy #The Rookie #Meta

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deadweightwritings · 5 months

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MARCH. TWD S4. [snippet]

TWD + Dixon!Reader [S4 Spoilers]

МАРШ - IC3PEAK

YOU CAN’T SEE THE HORIZON BEYOND THESE FENCES.

“Liar.” TWISH. The flying noise of the speared weapon. A squelching sound of an arrow meeting skin echoed on the field. The katana stayed in the Governor’s hand, never meeting Hershel’s neck. Merlot blood squirted and pooled down the Governor’s face, straight from the arrow hanging out the front of his forehead. His body sank to the ground and dropped dead.

“Dead before they hit t’ground. Jus’ how I like it.” Kit whispered to herself in the trees as she prepared to aim again.

Everyone on his side looked behind them, and there was no one to be seen. Kit likes to fuck people up from the trees. Nobody moved as their leader was just shot dead from a fucking shadow in the woods behind them. Now or never, Dixon. Flicking down the welding helmet for protection, Kit strapped her weapons in and dropped to the ground. As everyone on either side of the fence stood still, a roar of a motorcycle echoed across the field.

“Hershel! Michonne! Duck!”

Straight out of the wood shot Kit Dixon on her uncle’s motor vehicle. A machete in her hand, a belt of bombs ready to chuck, and hell of a vendetta. Hershel and Michonne hit the ground below them. Her arm flung out to bite under the mask and roll two grenades below the tanks and cars settled on that side of the fence.

BOOM.

The blast of the explosion almost knocked her off the motorcycle as she veered around, back to Rick on the other side and facing the damage in front of her. 2 of the 3 tanks are on their side or on fire, the ground is smoked to all hell. And people are dead in piles.

Michonne is already equipped with her sword, and throws a rifle to Hershel as she helps him up once the smoke clears.

“KIT!” Screams Rick, and she whirls her head to face him and sees him pointing frantically to her left and right. Two cars are coming toward her hot. Her hand finds her trusty pistol and in three shots, she shoots the two front tires out and the windshield. There’s gunfire all around her and the car to her left is taken out by her dad and Maggie. She looks beyond and finds one tank coming straight at her.

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE!” Daryl’s voice splays through the field, anger and worry carrying his voice. Revving up Merle’s ride, she looked at the hole in the fence that lead to her people and her dad, whilst the other lead to Hershel and Michonne. Releasing the clutch, she swerved around the tank, the main gun pivoted to follow her movement and her heart jumped. Not a cool way to go out, Dixon. Kit started swaying in her path, making a ‘Z’ in the way she was riding toward Hershel. Kit knows a modern tank can turn 360 degrees but goes against all odds and bolts to get her people. An explosion sounds behind her, and she knows one of the towers had been knocked clean down. Huffing, she’s still cruising to victory.

Pounding of adrenaline in her veins kept her flying towards the pair surrounded by the dead she killed, skidding to a stop, she motioned for the two to climb on. Michonne refused, wanting to take care of the walker’s about to sprout up. Hershel got on the back of her motorcycle, arms around her and she sped off. Hold on, Hershel. Kit pivoted so hard she though she would have tipped them both over, she rocketed to the hole in the fence where her dad was crouched, shooting a machine gun like no one’s business. She felt a bullet ricochet off the motorcycle and peered behind her, seeing a man with a rifle and shot him point blank with a pistol. POW.

Sliding past the broken fence, she skidded to a stop, kicking up dust as Beth and Maggie got to Hershel’s side. Kit sadly let the vehicle tip to the dirt as another explosion hit a wall behind her, throwing her through the air, into the fence. CRASH.

“Kit!” Ripped through Daryl’s throat. 20 second’s pass. Dazed and confused, Kit blink’s as she tastes dirt and blood in her mouth. Half the world is blocked out by her shot down ear from childhood. She barely hears that man call and scream for her, as ringing and pops fill her senses. Kit rolls onto her back, blood running down her forehead into one of her eyes as she winced and hissed. She still saw the blue sky above. Man, I’m beat. The eyelids flicker over the stone-colored eyes and—

“Girl, you get ter yer feet right this instance! I ain’t gonna ask you twice!” The loudest fucking voice just ripped through both her ears, yes both, and Kit shot up. Merle stood over her, hands on his beltloops and sour look on his face, she was sure he was going to spit at her, looking so pathetic.

“To hell wit you if you think you can die after a stunt like that, honey!” She swore to whatever God above that he grabbed her by her shoulders and hoisted her up to her feet, ears and body buzzing. After that she found her legs stumbling for cover,

“That’s it, Kit, keep walkin’.” The world around her was made out of blurry blocks, shit shooting everywhere and almost no noise reaching her ear. Except her uncle yelling at her.

“Grab the rifle, grab a weapon, dammit girl!” Reaching for her back, she messily swung the rifle to her front, nearly losing her grip of the gun. Kit felt a weight on her shoulder, and she liked to think it was Merle guiding her dazed ass through the prison grounds. Kit shook her head multiple time, trying to see straight but it didn’t do shit. Why is Merle here? Where’s my dad? Where’s Rick? Where’s anybody?

“To your left, kid!” Whipping to that direction, her eyesight fully locked on 3 walkers charging toward her. Lining the weapon up, she fired. BANG. BANG. BANG. Those three shots nearly made her black out, Kit is so fucking exhausted. The way she moved, she told herself she practically looked like a walker. Almost made her laugh out loud.

“Good girl, Kit. You better stay alive, missy.” Those words made her blink hard, hearing her uncle’s voice say that to her, caused her to wake up. Still dragging her feet, she jogged to where the fence was—BOOM. A wave of boiling heat washed over her face, as if she wasn’t already fucked up right now. There’s fire and smoke coming out of a tank, and she sees the dirty angel wings on the back of a jacket. Now she’s running to them. She’s next to them and her dad whirls around,

“Jesus Christ, Kit!” He grabs her ashen arm and pulls her along, her feet slap against the ground because she’s so weary and everything is wishy-washy. They dodge, duck and shoot their way through until they run into Beth.

“Maggie! Have you seen her, Daryl, Kit?!”

“No, Beth, we have to go! We gotta go!” Kit slings her arm around Beth’s shoulder’s, making her duck as they bolt out of the prison and into the woods. The crunch of the leaves hit their boots, they’re not worried about being quiet, they’re worried about surviving through this war the Governor brought on. The quarry is split even further, and Kit doesn’t know if they will ever reconvene after this hell.

You better stay alive, missy.

WHO IS OUT THERE IN THE STREETS BESIDES THE COLD?

#TWD #the walking dead #rick grimes #daryl dixon #merle dixon #twd fanfiction #beth greene #maggie greene #daryl x reader #twd x teen reader

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swervdcity-arc · 10 months

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‘ you’ve got a lot of nerve. ’ repeated like a curse or the worst mantra on planet earth. clenched fists, seeing red, grinding teeth and thirsting for blood. victoria isn’t a brute. victoria isn’t imposing. victoria may be one vengeful, vindictive bitch, but she’s never been one to be the shark sniffing for blood in the water. but this time ? she wants to even the playing field. regardless of the giants that’ll be out on the ice tonight, she knows she’ll be pulling teeth and leaving shiners. ‘ stay outta the crease, motherfucker. i will saw your right hand off with my fucking skate so you can never jerk off to your reflection ever again. ’ there’s always a left hand, victoria … but she understands how annoying it is to properly jerk off with a non-dominant hand. a grin. holding a grudge closer than she’s ever held anyone fuck you, dallas. fuck you for what you did. the sound of a cracking stick is still fresh in her mind. she can see elliot crumbling onto the ice, writhing around, and coming back up with a split face. the poor pretty boy had his goods damage, and for once, he almost didn’t get hit on at the pub afterparty. almost. the cool chill of a fresh sheet of ice, shocking her out of the sickening warm sweat she’s breaking her pregame ritual is running on the treadmill at an incline and making sure she’s hot and ready. and she sure is. hair in two long braids, draping over her shoulders, lips puckered with a strawberry chapstick. eyebrows press together, sneer prods at her lip, and she’s got her signature gameface on a stone cold glare with barely bared fangs. cold glare never leaves, even as she reaches the ice. straight to the rink, searching for the blood in the water. she gets her usual shoulder pats and kind hello’s, but she keeps walking. she doesn’t even harass hector. skate blade hits the ice, and she’s flying off, making her usual rounds. calm, easy, keeping her eyes peeled for the fucking brick wall. ah. hard to miss. stick in hands, eyes scanning as the rest of the brumbies congregate for a pregame skate. “ hey, dallas, you nervous for your first brumbies game, eh ? ” a voice rising above the sounds of skates and pucks hitting plexiglass. victoria almost cracks a smile. striding up to him, stick in both hands, daggers fixed right on him. if looks could kill … tough, poised, ready to strike. what an asshole. exuding testosterone, looking like a GI Joe from this view. stick taps lightly against his leg as she adds : “ i know you juice, bud i can smell it off you. try to control your ‘roid rage … maybe you’ll get some actual ice time. ” / @fuckedprophet

#OOOOOHOOOOO #FUCKEDPROPHET #CLOSED STARTERS.

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awakenthemusic · 2 years

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Suptober 2022 Day 1 - Maze/Maize

Destiel, Short fic, 818 words, fluff

When Dean is left crashing through a cornfield, will he find what he's looking for?

Under the cut or on Ao3

A-maize-ing

Dean prowled forward on silent feet. His body came alive, ears straining for any sound, eyes peering through the corn stalks for any hint of movement as he searched for his prey.

Corn rustled to his left and he darted in that direction. The sounds veered left and he followed. On and on he doggedly tracked his quarry through the field, ready to pounce the moment it came into view.

The sounds grew closer and closer as Dean gained ground on his prey.

So close now, just a little farther…

Dean turned the corner and… hastily skidded to a stop before he ran smack into a dead end. He scowled and said, “Dammit!”

Cas’ laughter drifted to him through the corn stalks making up the maze wall, lightening Dean’s frustration. They were trying to have fun, after all. Still, how in the hell had Cas gotten over there?

Dean tried to get his bearings as he sighed, “Any time you want to make this easier on us both, Cas…”

Cas said, voice ringing with his shit-eating grin, “I fought my way through hell for forty years to raise you from perdition, Dean. Can you really not conquer one corn maze for me?”

Dean rolled his eyes with a fond grin and said, “Don’t start with the ‘raising me from perdition’ thing again, Cas. I dragged your ass outta the empty, I think we’re just about even.”

Cas suddenly appeared in front of Dean and he gasped lightly in surprise. Dean hoped he never got used to the low curl of heat that licked through him when Cas appeared like that, coat flaring out behind him dramatically and eyes drilling into his own.

Dean huffed out a sigh and decidedly did not whine, “Dude, using your wings is cheating .”

Cas’ lips quirked up in a grin and he offered, “If you’d like to admit defeat now, I will gladly accept your surrender.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and lunged. Cas danced back out of his reach with a chuckle.

Dean kept lunging forward, trying to feint and catch Cas unawares. Cas stayed infuriatingly out of reach, dancing just beyond the brush of Dean’s fingers with the easy grace that always reminded Dean that Cas was once a warrior of heaven.

Dean finally stopped, leaning forward with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Cas leveled a mischievous look Dean’s way, a slow, sexy grin curling his lips, and repeated the phrase that had started Dean chasing him through this abandoned corn maze in the first place, “If you want me, come and get me.”

The low growl of his words sent a shiver down Dean’s spine and he thought to himself, How the fuck did I ever think I was straight?

Some of Dean’s arousal must have shown on his face because Cas’ grin widened as an answering fire lit in his eyes.

This time Cas was the one to stalk forward.

Dean froze, his eyes caught and held by Cas’ stare. He’d never felt more like prey in his life.

And he’d been nearly eaten by monsters more times than he could count.

Cas crowded right up into Dean’s personal space. Dean instinctively stepped back until his back hit the wall of corn stalks behind him.

Cas leaned forward and all that Dean could see or think about was Cas’ mouth, kissable lips curled in a triumphant grin.

Cas leaned in and Dean let his eyes fall closed, breath catching as… Wind buffeted against Dean and the sound of wings filled the air.

Dean’s eyes flew open to find this maze section empty.

“You son of a bitch.” Dean panted as he tried to get his brain back online.

Cas laughed from the other side of the maze wall, now back where he’d been . He taunted, “You can’t catch me because I used my wings to see you, Dean. That would be cheating .”

Dean growled and took off again, determined to find his damn angel.

Dean reached a crossroads in the maze, the path splitting off into four different directions. He paused, listening for clues as to where Cas could be. Cas, ever the strategist, had stopped moving, leaving Dean with no clue which path he should choose.

Dean cursed under his breath and thought to himself, It’s a damn good thing I love you, you ass.

Dean still wasn’t the most comfortable saying things like that out loud, but seeing Cas’ face light up like the sun whenever he managed it gave him plenty of motivation to try.

A n idea struck Dean and he grinned wide. He sank down into his thighs, ready to dart forward in whichever direction he needed to, and very deliberately prayed, Cas, I love you.

Cas’ startled gasp sounded somewhere down the path on Dean’s right and he took off with a triumphant whoop.

Gotcha!

#suptober2022 #destiel #spn #fanfic #fanfiction #suptober22

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock ‘n’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 1- Disco Down

Intro: It's range day. SWAT vs LAPD Special Crimes branch. You and your finance decide to have a bit of fun with the interdepartmental competition.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So yeah, I started another series. Bad WIYBUPT. But there aint enough Disco out there so I thought I’d rectify that situation. This is also another entry for @imanuglywombat ‘s “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “Juicy Ass”. See here for more information.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

It was early in the morning, the first warm rays of the LA sunshine had barely begun warming the pavement when the two of you had started your day. Paul was already pouring you both coffee to go as you met him in the kitchen, dressed in your Swat training tee, utility pants and standard issue uniform boots, hair French braided back. You smirked at the dapper young detective before you, slacks, dress shoes, button down and tie.

It'd been a gruelling last few weeks for you both. You were working a SWAT case with your unit and Paul was busy working an LAPD Vice officer's homicide. He would trudge in late at night, either from the precinct or more recently from a night out with Vice following some leads. You were always already asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He'd kiss you softly, shower, kiss you again and crawl into bed, hugging you close.

Now, you were both getting ready to head out, finally having slept in the same bed together for the first time in weeks. Given your nature, the two of you were playfully squabbling over the upcoming late afternoon's task, a joint fire arms training session between your unit, LAPD SWAT and Paul's unit. The joint time spent at the range always turned into pool of who'd win and, usually, was too close to call rounding off with each team going head to head in a final duel.

And things were getting competitive in the Diskant home.

"If I can make it," Paul grumbled, "we should sweeten the deal."

"You'll make it.” You popped a shoulder. “Paul Diskant doesn't miss a day at the range, nor friendly competition. So, name your terms?" You smirked mischievously over the rim of your mug, watching him adjust his tie.

"Winner gets a favor." Paul devilishly replied.

"What kind of favor?" You played along and the look on his face already made your insides squirm as he raised a brow and curled his lips further in his smirk. "Paul!"

"Y/N!" Paul mimicked, cutting the distance between you, big hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing along your shirt. "Baby, it's been days. This Vice case has me pulled away longer than I have been since I was a beat cop."

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, fingers grazing the point where the short hairs of his buzz-cut met his neck.

“Fine." You kissed him deeply, the taste of coffee on both your tongues but something that was just him too. "We'll call it a bonus." “Bonus...” he nodded. “I can run with that.”

“You couldn’t run a fucking bath, Disco.” "Oh Sweetheart, you're on." The challenge in his voice and mischief in his eyes lit a fire under you. You kissed him again and moved away, a swift smack from his hand to your ass made you yip but you kept walking.

****

The drive into the station was quiet, you reading over your training schedule for the day and Paul driving. The only sound that filled the vehicle was the sound of him humming along to the radio, thumb tapping along to the beat of the song on his steering wheel, before you heard him let out a loud sigh.

"I have some stuff to chase down this morning but if nothing pans out, I should be at the range with the rest of my unit."

"Well, then I'll hope it doesn't pan out, just so I can kick your ass with my Glock," you chuckled as he let out a groan.

"Baby, you know, watching you handle that Glock and riffle makes me horny as fuck right? Nothing like a woman that can shoot," Paul admitted. He took your left hand away from the file and pressed his lips to the top of it. He knew why you did it, but he still hated not seeing your diamond flashing on your finger all day.

"Oh yeah?" You turned your standard issued sunglass covered eyes to him, "is that why you wanted to marry me?"

Paul chortled, “one reason among the many."

He pulled into the carport and parked in his designated spot. You exited the vehicle and gathered your bag from the popped trunk.

"See you at the range, don't be late, or I'll have to listen to Rodriguez bitch as she drives me home." You gave him a teasing kiss and slung your bag over your shoulder, walking away.

"Hey, Y/N?" He called after you. You stopped and turned around to look at him, lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head. "Don’t waste too much energy today, huh? You’re gonna need all the strength you have tonight, Baby."

You chuckled to yourself, "Just show up, we'll talk energy later," you rolled your eyes and walked off, flipping him the bird over your shoulder.

The scorching sun boiled across the training facility tucked between the hills of the valley, away from the hustle of the city and just far enough out of reach for civilians. Abandoned buildings and, green fields and a simulated neighborhood made up the grand, multi-million dollar facility. You and your team had been at it all morning, moving through the buildings in full tactical gear and safety equipment. Together you cleared buildings, fired upon fake assailants and suspects. You and your partner, Alma Rodriguez, even hit the weights and boxing bags to keep loose after a hand to hand session against Everett and Evans. To keep your trigger fingers hot and ready, you played a round of long range sniper poker, you of course beating the team with a straight flush, bullets hitting their targets dead center.

It was the last hours of daylight by the time Special Branch showed up and you couldn't help but smirk as you watched Paul set up his gear from across the field. Long gone were his slacks and tie, and now, he was dressed in a tight black tee with the edges of his two bicep tattoos peeking out from the hem, and uniform issue pants and boots, his wrap arounds shielding those beautiful blues you loved getting lost in.

You smirked as the two of you locked glances, his smile forming across plump lips. A cocky flick of his head was sent in your direction and you laughed, pulling a hundred dollar bill from your pocket and slapping it flat against the table.

The competition started, pairing SWAT members against Specials, two by two until both your captains were the final two.

"Shooters on the line," the facility command officer called. Each shooter stepped up, readying their rifles. Your team lined up behind your boss, Paul and his desk buddies watching from their side. "Stand by... Ready..." The whistle sounded and the first shots at their prospective targets were fired.

Firing judges followed behind each shooter, judging accuracy, safety and protocol. Three rifle shots fired down range and the shooters tossed their weapons to the side, tucking and rolling one roll with their hand on their pistol all while watchful eyes looked on. Your boss didn't roll, but Paul's did and the snickering started from Special Branch. It didn't deter your focus as you watched your boss, Captain Rogers, finish the round. Three shots fired at metal targets, each one going down in accuracy, then a clip reload and three more shots fired at a close range target before the commanding judge asked both men to put their weapons on safe and holster them. He approached each target for accuracy and declared Paul's boss, Captain Wilson, the winner of the round. That brought the two teams to a tie.

The Detectives cheered and razzed SWAT but both captains settled their groups down. The field judge confirmed the tie in the competition and groans sounded from both teams.

"I'll tell you what, I'll toss in an extra two hundred bucks to pit Y/L/N against your pick," Rogers held two one hundred dollar bills up, handing them over to the field judge for safe keeping.

"Alright, I see your two and raise two," Captain Wilson held out his bills, "for Diskant to take that challenge."

"Oooooooh", both teams razzed the real life couple.

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face as one of Paul’s colleagues piped up that this could back fire spectacularly as would Paul really want to risk pissing off the woman who controlled his sex life.

“That’s exactly why he wants to win,” you jibed back, causing him to roll his eyes and scoff, “because his sex life is on the line if he doesn’t.”

More laughter rang out across the area as Paul merely shrugged, a smile flickering across his face as you heard Rogers speak loudly to Wilson from behind you.

“Between us, two hundred on my girl to blow your man outta the water."

Paul leaned down, to whisper into your ear, a smirk plying on his lips, "something's gonna get blown."

"What was that?" You coyly played.

“Sure you wanna do this?” He asked, turning to look at you, his brow arched. “I mean you could just forfeit now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

You held his gaze for a moment before you made a show of dragging your eyes down his body, your gaze lingering on his crotch as if you were contemplating his offer, before you raised your head, your tongue poking out from between your lips a little.

“Did you forget to zip up?" You asked. Paul gave a start, his head jerking down to look at his ‘piece’ so to speak, and at that moment the whistle was blown to start.

The first shots were fired, Paul's just seconds behind yours. Tucking behind the mailboxes for your next shot, you nailed your target and moved forward to fire your final rifle round, using a metal barrel as your cover. You laid your riffle to rest, took a few steps, tucked your chin and rolled, planting your feet and rising up to draw your personal firearm. Poised for your next quick shot behind a mock window frame, you fired at the target and moved on, Paul's form in your peripheral, matching you shot for shot. Coming around the frame you fired a walking shot at your next target and then took your place at the final marker, firing away before the expected reload and emptying your clip into the standing paper target with his hostage.

"Safety on... Holsters." The range judge called after he blew his whistle. You and Paul followed his commands and waited as he examined your individual targets. It was close, you knew it. Paul was an excellent shot.

You watched as the judge looked over Paul's target first, poking his finger through two holes in the face before moving on to yours. You nailed your target, all three shots hitting the suspect. One dead shot to the center of his head, the other in the chest and the last in the torso.

"Here's your winner," the judge declared, pointing at your target.

Cheers began to ring out and you heard Paul groan loudly, turning to you. "You cheated.”

"I guess the favor's on you," You quipped as behind him you saw Captain Rogers holding his hand out, ready to receive the cash prize from Wilson.

“You still cheated.”

“I did no such thing!” You scoffed.

“You distracted me.” He folded his arms across his chest, a sullen pout on his handsome face.

“Well, you should know better than to take your eye off the target, Disco,” you smirked and he narrowed his eyes playfully. “On second thought, I think I will let Rodriguez take me home. Burgers and beer on you. Don't forget the extra pickles."

He smirked, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, "come on, ride back with me, I'll make it worth your while."

"Erm, unless I'm mistaken you just lost so..." You popped a shoulder, your eyes not leaving his as you began walking backwards away from him. "I'm in charge."

“I want a divorce.” He shot back and you laughed, shaking your head.

“We’re not married yet, hot shot.” You winked.

“Details.” He waved his hand and you snorted, before you turned and jogged to catch up with your colleagues.

*****

As per your instructions, Paul didn’t forget the extra pickles and later that evening the pair of you were sat on the sofa in your comfy clothes, food and beer in hand as you lounged back watching a film on the Television. You stole a glance at your fiancé for a moment, his sharp profile illuminated in the soft light of the lamp to his right. He really was incredibly handsome, and you often wondered daily how the hell you’d gotten so lucky, as he could have had his pick of women, they tended to fall at his feet wherever you went. But he’d chosen you. Not only that, he’d pursued you. It had taken him a good few weeks after you’d both met on a case when he was in Uniform to finally accept his offer of a date. The dates had continued, and six months later you’d moved in together, and a year or so after that, he’d gotten down on one knee in the middle of your apartment and asked you to be his wife.

Which, reminded you of something you’d heard before.

With a smirk you turned your attention back to the film, took another bite of your burger before you spoke, your tone light and airy.

"So... strippers huh?"

Paul hastily swallowed his food and turned to look at you. "What?"

"Nothing, just typical."

"No, what?" He chuckled.

"I just heard one of the guys before commenting about how the wedding is getting closer so the stag do needs planning. The words Vegas and strippers were mentioned. Several times"

"Fucking Adler, man," he shook his head, dropping his empty burger container into the paper bag on the table in front of you.

“So you are going to Vegas, then?” You shoved another fry in your mouth to stop the smirk from spreading at the teasing.

"Uh, yeah," his reply was nonchalant, but he rubbed at his neck in that way he always did when he was a little nervous or uncomfortable. His big tell.

"Right. And there will be strippers?”

“Yes, there PROBABLY will be strippers." He side eyed you a little as he reached for his beer, the faint flush of red visible on the back of his neck as you took the final bite of your food.

“How probably?”

"There MAYBE be a night at the club." He leaned back, bottle in hand.

"Dicks." You gave a dramatic sigh, dropping your now empty food container into the bag with his. You made a show of scrunching down the top of the bag, dropping it to the floor by the side of the sofa, ready to be taken to the trash, before you leaned back, shaking your head.

"What?" he turned to you, beer paused halfway to his mouth.

"Oh, no, I was just saying, at my hen do there will be dicks. Lots of dicks."

“What the fuck?” He spluttered and you shrugged, not looking at him, feigning concentration on the television.

“I can't have strippers too? Tut, tut Disco, that's very old fashioned."

There was a pause, and you waited for his reaction, knowing it could go one of two ways. Out and out petulant protesting, or some sort of childish, half witty come back.

"You know, my dick is by far the most important." He chose the latter.

"You mean you are the most important dick?"

“Yeah.” He conceded. “Hey, least I’m important in some way.”

At that you laughed and moved a little closer to him. He shifted, allowing you to snuggle under his arm, pressing a kiss to your head.

“You know what else is important?” You asked, your hand gently tracing shapes on his white tee.

“What?”

“That you don’t forget that you owe me a favor, Detective Diskant." “That I do.” He agreed, and you felt him nod.

“So, there’s a pile of ironing that needs doing and the bed sheets need changing tomorrow. Can you manage?”

At that he let out a loud guffaw, his chest rumbling against your cheek. "Seriously, Baby?" He glanced down at you as you tipped your head up to look at him. "Absolutely," you winked

“I am at your complete mercy to satisfy you in any way you want... and you ask me to do chores?” He rolled his eyes. “You’re losing your sense of adventure, Sweetheart.” "Oh I have a sense of adventure, but a bet is a bet and we've pulled three doubles between the two of us so shits gotta get done, and you lost, therefore, you... are... my... bitch.” Your words were punctuated by soft jabs to his chest with your index finger and Paul groaned, throwing his head back against the sofa as he scrunched his eyes closed.

“Fuck my life.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You looked at him and he opened his eyes. “Fuck my wife?”

“We’re not married yet.” He smirked, arching an eyebrow at you as he played back your words from earlier.

“Details,” you played along and he laughed as you shifted a little more so your face was level with his. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

With a cheeky grin he leaned over, pressing his lips to yours, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as the kiss grew deeper, his tongue slowly sliding against yours. You let out a soft moan, shifting a little, your hand cupping his face and then he pulled back. You pouted at the loss of contact and opened your eyes to shoot him a glare, to find him smirking a little.

"Double or nothing, I bet I can make you cum in less than two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” You arched a brow, biting your lip a little as you squirmed at the frankly filthy look in his eyes. “Now?”

“Yup.”

“Bring it on.” You threw down the gauntlet. “But that doesn’t include the time it takes me to get you naked.” He grinned, shifting a little so he was side on, facing you.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Or the foreplay.”

“Jesus Christ, Paul, just get on with it. You said two minutes. Clock starts the second you start, your challenge not mine. He grabbed your beer bottle and placed it along with his on the table with a bang. “You saying you don’t want me to love on you a little bit before I bang you into next week?” His voice was low as he hovered over you a little, his face inches from yours. "I'm saying I'm fucking desperate, that's what I'm saying."

"Then I won't need two minutes.” He grinned, pressing further into you, causing you to lay back on the sofa.

“God, you’re so full of it.” You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re gonna be full of it soon.” He smirked, his lips pressing to yours. "Stop... Talking... And... Do... It," you demanded between his dizzying, little pecks. His lips curled into a smile against yours as his hands gently trailed up the outside of your smooth thighs, thumbs grazing under the hem of your cut offs. The assault from his lips already soaking you.

It wouldn't take much, you both were fully aware of it. Nearly a week apart or just missing each other had you two desperately seeking release. The question was, who would cave first. He said two minutes and you knew he could hold off until you were good and worked over. His fingers slipped between your denim shorts and he gave a low groan as he felt your damp panties. His kiss grew hungrier and he was quickly on your flies, your shorts were down your leg in a matter of seconds, tossed over the back of the sofa, panties with them.

He moved to a kneel, one hand gently hooking your right leg up to rest against the back of the couch, knocking the other to the side, your foot falling automatically to the floor, toes pressing onto the soft carpet, leg bent at the knee. You don't even register how fast he moved downwards, and part of you wondered if he lost on purpose. A flat long swipe tasted at your folds.

"Jesus," it felt glorious and your back arched off the sofa in delight. There was a wee bit of scruff causing a tease of friction against your inner thighs and although you weren't timing him, you knew it couldn't have been more than sixty seconds when his tongue dipped into your hole causing you to cry out.

"Fuck, Paul..."

He gave a little chuckle, mouth vibrating against your nub which he grazed with his teeth. You bit your lip as your insides began to tremble, you were so desperately trying to hold off just to get that last win over him, but it was useless. That rumble had you in the throes of it and you were gone, your legs shaking as you came, your walls clamping around nothing as you gasped, your body shuddering with pleasure.

The smirk and glisten that was evident on his lips as he sat up and caged you in, had you clawing at his shorts. "I win."

"Yeah, okay, you smug little shit,” your voice was breathy as you recovered from your high, your hands pulling at the drawstring in the middle of his abs. “Dare I ask how you want me?”

His baby blues, already dark with desire, flashed and he pressed his lips to yours, his mouth dominating and you could taste yourself on him. You groaned as his hands slid up, cupping your face and he pulled back.

“Hands on the floor, feet on the coffee table, knees bent.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Hands on the floor, feet on the coffee table, knees bent.” He repeated.

Okay, so this was new…

With a final, suspicious look at him as he moved back, you stood, jumping and emitting a little squeak as he slapped your ass as you went. Taking a deep breath you turned, placed your hands on the floor and rested the tops of your feet on the coffee table, your knees bent.

“So you can do as you’re told.” Paul smirked, standing up off the sofa.

“When I want to.” You peeked up at him as best you could to see him sliding his shorts down his legs, stepping out of them before he moved round and threw his leg over your shins. His hands slid up the outside of your thighs, coming to rest on your waist as he pulled you back a little, his erection pressing into your behind as he ground against you, giving a little hiss.

“Fuck, baby you look so good from back here.” He moaned, bending over slightly to press a kiss to your spin and you shivered, your arms wobbling a little and you began to worry just how much of this you could take.

“Paul, seriously, just…”

“Patience.” He cut you off as he gave your ass a soft slap making you emit a noise that was half way between a squeal and a laugh as he positioned himself behind you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his chest where it had been pressed to your back moments ago.

You felt the tip of his dick as it poked at your entrance, and he had no problem slipping inside your already soaked folds. But the angle and the pressure of your body closed off as he slipped inside you set your nerves on fire. You both moaned out together as he slid home, his balls to your clit.

You felt how thick he was against your walls. A little twitch and flutter from his shaft as you both remained still, you silently begging and waiting for him to move. His fingertips gently dug into your hips as he slowly pulled back and moved forward again.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking tight, like this," Paul ground out as he pumped slowly in and out of you. He was taking his time, slow thrusts and long pulls back. In truth, it was agony, but a beautiful torture. And a torture that he continued again, and again, and again. Over and over, in no rush whatsoever, a sharp contrast to where he’d brought you off before on the couch as fast as he could.

Your arms were shaking from baring the position but you wanted more. And as the bubbles of pleasure slowly simmered through your core and deep into your belly, you moaned out your demand. "Harder."

"Oh, fuck," Paul quivered inside you but picked up his pace, his hips slamming into yours, your insides squeezing him tightly as his hands gripped at your hips, blunt nails biting against your skin. With every thrust forward you were jolted, your palms sliding on the rough surface of the rug underneath you, and you curled your fingertips into the deep, cream coloured shag in an attempt to prevent yourself from face planting straight onto the floor.

"Yeah, just like that," you panted, your elbows locking as you pushed yourself up slightly, "oh fuck, Paul!" You could tell by his breathing and how he felt inside you that he was ready to cum but he could always hold off until you had yours. "So close," you managed to pant out, letting him know you weren’t far.

He slowed his pace, bending his body down your spine again, and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, "just," he thrusted, "let", again, "go".

His words flipped the switch inside your body and you felt yourself going, the blood already rushing to your head from the position you were in, and the pressure was pounding in your ears as you came, hard. "Oh my God!" You cried out as your walls clamped down around him, milking his hot seed to explode inside you.

"That’s my girl, fuck!" He roared at the feel of you around him, and his hips grew sloppy as he came, grunting, pulling you back onto him as he let go of his thick payload.

With your chests heaving, bodies stilled, his fingers still around your hips, his thumbs drew lazy circles on your back. You felt his blue gaze on you and you couldn't see it, but you knew he was smirking.

“Paul.” You managed to swallow, “baby, my arms.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” He moved gently to pull out of you, curling his arm around your waist in the nick of time as your elbows gave way and the pair of you tumbled rather ungracefully to the rug by the table in a tangle of limbs, your giggles ringing around the room, drowning out the sound of the television.

“You okay?” He asked gently, as you moved so you were lay on your back looking up at him as he lay on his side, propped on his left elbow. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with his right hand as you nodded, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

“I’m not even gonna ask where you saw or read about that.” You chuckled and he grinned, glancing around the room cheekily before he looked down at you.

“Boys talk, sweetheart.” He shrugged. “But admit it, that was better than making me fold sheets.”

You chuckled as he pressed his lips to yours again, your fingers gently twisting his silver chain between them as you looked at him and arched your eyebrow. “If I admit it will you do it again? Only not tonight, don’t think my arms could take another round.”

Paul let out a laugh which rumbled in his chest and he pressed his lips to yours again. “Maybe we can make a game out of it, see how many other surfaces I can use to I prop your feet on and fuck you from behind.”

You scoffed, slapping at his arm as he grinned down at you cheekily, and you bit your lip.

“I can run with that.” Your hands moved so they slipped round his back, gently tracing shapes over the muscles, making them twitch a little and he sighed as your nails reached that spot on his neck that always turned him to putty in your hands.

“Stop, you know what that does to me.” He looked down at you.

“I do.” You agreed, continuing nonetheless.

“Seriously, you want more?”

“Well, like you said.” Your fingers curled round the nape of his neck, pulling his face down so it was inches from yours. “It’s been a while since we got time together, best make the most of it.”

“Oooh, you’re a bad, bad woman future Mrs Disco…” he smirked, kissing you deeply. “And I’m so down for that.”

****

It was late in the evening, the two of you having carried your sex-capades from the lounge to the bedroom, both of you spent and spooning in the aftermath of bliss when Paul's cell rang out.

He grumbled and shifted slightly, turning to grab the offending item form the night stand before he answered, "Diskant."

You strained your ears to listen to who was on the other end but it wasn't audible.

"Yeah, okay, got it. I'll call you back," he replied and hung up. Then he quickly made an outgoing call. "Hey, so I just talked to Scribble. Freemont and Coates, or whoever they are, want to meet us." There was a brief pause, "tonight." Another pause and he closed his phone.

He sighed, turning to you, "I got to go."

"Okay," you sat up, an uneasiness filling your veins.

"I'll be back," he slipped out of bed, dressing quickly in black jeans, a black button down and hat. He clipped his badge from the nightstand to his belt after slipping into his uniform boots. Then leaned over and gave you a long, deep kiss. "I love you."

"I love you. Come home to me," you kissed him and pulled back, your fingers pressing the medallion of safe keeping against his chest. Paul touched his forehead to yours before he pressed his lips to your own in a soft kiss and headed out. You heard the door click as he left your apartment, and you gave a sigh, settling down into the bed, pulling his pillow to your naked chest as you closed your eyes. Whilst you knew that this was the job, hell, you’d done it yourself for long enough, it still never made it easier and for some inexplicable reason, tonight it made you even more twitchy than normal. But, that was more than likely down to the fact you’d managed to enjoy some quality time together tonight, and it had been so good.

Before long you drifted off to sleep, and you had no idea what time it was when the cordless rang, shrilling through the apartment, raising you from your slumber, but as you blinked yourself awake, it was still pitch black outside.

"Hello," you croaked.

"Y/N," you recognized the voice immediately, given your own happenings with IA.

"Captain Biggs," you replied, suddenly fully awake as you sat up in bed, the covers clutched to your chest.

"It's Paul,” his voice was low and serious and instantly you felt a cold, icy dread floor your system from your head to your toes as he passed, taking a breath, “a unit is on its way for you."

***** Part 2

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant #uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #street kings #street kings fan fic #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Elizabeth Debicki - Gorgeous

A/N & WC - Back again with Elizabeth and Taylor Swift. Reputation is my favourite album currently, with evermore as a close second. Two incredible women in one yes please. Listen to 'Gorgeous' while reading for the feel of it. 2.8k exactly.

Warnings - Legal alcohol consumption, mild cursing once.

Summary - Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

“YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS…”

“What was that?” Elizabeth swiftly cuts in.

Your eyes grow wide in an instant, looking down intensely at the black table, sticky with spilt drinks, and turn your attention away.

“Nothing…” you trail off. Frankly, you hadn’t realised you were thinking aloud, but if you said what you were thinking, then tonight's girls night out with your best friend is gonna be a whole lot harder.

“So as I was saying, this guy from Bumble, he comes and he looks nothing like his profile picture, right?” Her eyes are so animated when she speaks, her jaw agog in a remembering shock, she taps at her glass with ebony painted fingernails. “Like his picture was a solid eight outta ten, but in person, not even a four. But there was something about him, you know? That little twinkle in his eye, so I gave him more of a fair shot than I do other catfishes.” You hum noncommittally, not necessarily listening to the words, but the soft undulating animation in her beautiful accent is worth listening to any day, even if just hearing about her going on a date with someone riles you up intensely. “No personality,” she gapes, smacking her lissom hands down on the table with a slight thump, causing some of her wine to spill. “Absolutely none! It was like talking to a brick wall for half an hour. Can you believe it? And he asked what part of Australia I was from, and when I said Melbourne, you know what he said? ‘Is that in New Zealand.’”

She scoffs, and downs the last of her wine. Her magnetic field is so strong, so alluring, you can’t help but feel drawn to her even more. She really should think about the consequences of her charisma or else you might snog her and ruin everything before the nights even over.

“What a dick,” you play along.

“Ugh, I know. Refill?”

“Please. Whiskey—”

“On ice. I know, hon.”

She smirks, shooting you a wink before standing up and practically gliding across the room to the bar. Your eyes twinkle with hope, with sinful want, as you watch her, and you’re sure that with your wistful expression and flushed cheeks and the way your mouth suddenly goes dry the second she says or does anything that could be construed in the least bit flirtatious that she knows how much you like her. Your whole body tingles, your words and sense swallowed up by an intense fire the second she touches you, it’s beginning to make you furious that she’s able to make you feel this way and still acts so coy about it if she even does have the first clue how utterly besotted you are with everything she does.

Over at the bar, Liz has to hunch to lean her forearms on the countertop, kicking her feet back a little, her short dress showing off her long, shapely legs with grace. She looks so sultry, with her leather jacket shrugged so casually over her pale shoulders. But your mind and illicit thoughts plummet and die the second you peer around her and capture a look at the bartender she’s talking to. Tall and that muscular build of slim that only comes from years of sport, a pinched waist and full chest, tanned skin—perhaps of Filipina descent, dark inky hair falling in tendrils from her work ponytail, no makeup and she still looks stunning. And exactly like Shay Mitchell. And she's flirting with your Elizabeth. Not that she’s yours or anything, that would be absurd, unless…

This woman is gorgeous, and you’re already jealous of her, of the attention she’s receiving from Elizabeth; the suggestive touches, the coy laughs, the revealing tug of her dress, the tentative tilt of her head, the run of her slender hand through her choppy blonde locks. But because Liz is single, it’s actually worse, because she’s been a lot more open and experimental with her sexuality recently, not labelling it but trying more out, trying more partners out. And you don’t fault her for that for even a moment, but why she can’t experiment with you, a raging queer, is beyond your grasp. It’s almost undoubted that she’s going to be taking this incredibly scorching hot bartender home at the end of the night, and if you weren’t out with Elizabeth, you’d be making the same move. But Liz… she desperately needs to think of the consequences of her touching this romans hand in a darkened room. That should be you.

You can’t get too possessive, though, as Liz has done her fair amount of touching you all night on this signature girls pub crawl, but it’s not the same, it’s not… enough. She’s been holding your hand, hooking her arm through yours to do shots, hugging you with her lithe arm around your waist as you totter down the high street in heels too high. It’s all been too friendly, though. And now it’s getting late, your final destination of the night. You’re practically the only patrons with a conscience at this point. You’ll be turning in soon, the bar will be closing soon, it’s inevitable. Liz will have a warm bed, and you’ll be left to go home alone to your cats. She’s so gorgeous, you can't blame the bartender, but she can’t blame you wither; love made you crazy.

You’re busy brooding over the ice slowly melting at the bottom of your glass, condensation forming in droplets on the rim when Liz casts a glance over her shoulder, a bright beaming smile etched upon her face, every line drawn up to match her glee. She points a long raven-painted digit at you, and prompts you to smile back, which you do—without even half as much fervour—and ensure you incline your head towards the bartender, whose dark hazel eyes are now fixed on you, before turning back, pretending to have found something of interest on the table.

“That’s y/n,” she says in a happy, furtive whisper, “my best friend.”

With her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, your mind is all scrambled, and with the intense feeling you might sink and drown and die, you know you need to get it in order before she returns, so you push your own stool out and head to stand in the doorway, fresh air hitting you like a brick wall.

The smell of the city instantly prevents it being worthwhile.

The sun set long ago, and you can see vines crawling up the building across the road from you, even in the dim street light and shadows. Even in a tucked away corner of the city, down back streets in a quiet quarter, the incessant incense of exhaust fumes and chippy food and pigeon shit never quite leaves one alone.

Everything’s winding down, quietening, muffled by an indelible blanket of night. A soft mist fills the air, an impending storm infiltrating your senses, roiling you a little. The walk home will be made worse by the rain soon to fall, ire digging at you for more reasons than one.

Elizabeth… She can make you so happy with one simple look that it turns back to sadness the moment you see the flicker of friendliness in her eyes, never anything more, never anything deeper, not once. What can you say? She’s gorgeous, she’s everyone else's for the taking, whoever she deems rakish enough to take home for the night.

The silence of the night, of your thoughts, is hewn by a sharp siren whizzing past you, so you push your pain away, and sidle back through the doors, shutting the slow drizzle of rain out as you close the door behind you.

Once you return inside, your thoughts slightly more reordered, you see her back at the table, fiddling idly with the hem of her dress, her cheeks tinted a soft red.

“So?”

“I got her number,” she confesses, barely able to bite back a smile, even as her perfect white teeth graze her lower lip. “She gets off shift in an hour.”

You were right, then.

“That’s nice. She’s hot.”

“I know,” she replies dreamily, “and looks exactly like Shay Mitchell, can you believe it? I fancied her so much when Pretty Little Liars first came out.”

“Yeah, I did too.” you admit quietly, clasping your hands around your fresh whiskey.

“You okay? It’s getting late, we can head off now.”

“Nope, absolutely fine. In fact, I think I’ll have another. Tell me something.”

“But we haven’t talked about you all night, I wanna know how your life is going. Love life too.” she protests.

What, your life with the monotonous job and the zero romantic prospects so you spend all your free time sitting at home reading and the nights with your vibrator and Liz in your head? How the hell are you supposed to tell her that.

You simply shrug, and keep a mask of cold, hard resolve in place. “You know my life. I’m interested in yours. Go on.”

So she does. And you do order another whiskey after your first, to the point where you’re verging on the highest restraints of merely tipsy and if you have another you’re heading fast for straight out drunk, which you shan’t do. But you’re merry, and Liz’s words all sound weird, slurred a little from the alcohol, her Australian accent bending to accommodate the vowel sounds she’s making with the occasional slip of a Polish or French word in there. She gets like this when she’s drinking, and it’s one of her most endearing qualities very few are able to see.

“Your voice sounds really weird,” you chuckle, leaning back in your chair, “you’re talkin’ all funny.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Am so not!” She’s persistent, she never did back down easy.

You half heartedly shrug, knocking your glasses into one another on the table. You tug your jacket further around you, and purse your lips readying for battle.

“You know, you really should take it as a compliment that I’ve got drunk and I’m making fun of the way you talk.”

She allows her precisely plucked brows to dance over her face in surprise, though quickly schools her features into a plain mask.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Liz. I’m fine.” you say adamantly, and take another swig from your drink, savouring the tang on your tongue. Your glass makes another thud when you slam it down with unplanned and unnecessary force.

“You see, your mouth says that, but your… mouth is telling me something else?”

Before you can help it, your fingers are clutching the edge of the table, your cheeks heating softly, “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can that be?”

A chill slithers down your skin as her eyes grow wide, her pale skin blanching a shade further. “I didn’t mean, um, what? I—” she breaks off with a cough. “I ju— just meant that, um, you’re… sulking.”

“Oh.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach plummets into the core of the earth, embarrassment taking over every other rational thought within your mind and body. Your soul is already brittle, but this? Your pride has certainly taken a knock enough for you to down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp.

“I’m gonna take off,” you say at last, across the curious blanket of silence, ignoring the way her angular face—limned with hope—falls a fraction.

“Please stay.”

You don’t think you hear her correctly, if at all. For all you know, her words could just be a whisper in the blustering breeze beating outside, the storm you predicted arriving early. In the dim bar, you’re away from it all, sage, until the bartender gets off shift and snatches Liz away for yet another night.

“Beg pardon?”

“Please stay,” she repeats, louder this time, but her blue eyes don’t meet yours across the table. “Tell me what’s up.”

She’s not backing down, so you brace yourself, allowing brazenness to fill you with courage, allowing your alcohol to eddie around you, summoning the words at long last.

“Nothing…” you say at first, because really, it is nothing, but she cocks her head at you that authoritative way. God, she should be a teacher with her assertive glances. “Just that you‘re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…” you snatch her cup across the table, and take a deep swallow before shrugging and casting your gaze outside to spare yourself the mortification of being rejected. “Sober at least.”

You’re met with a beat of silence, “Why?”

“Look at your face!” you shout, utterly exasperated. You’ve got a good mind to pull a compact mirror to remind her how drop-dead stunning she is. “I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.”

“Why, baby? What way?” she croons.

Too caught up in your momentary lapse of judgement and rant, you fail to notice her edging closer to you, moving your glasses out the way, letting her forearms rest on the sticky table just so she can watch the way you lick your lips with nerves.

“Crazy, because you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts.”

“R—really?” she stammers.

You turn back to her, all thoughts evaporating with her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, driving you insane. Her pretty lips are all parted and awaiting, how much you want to kiss her… So instead, you pout, and begin to throw a strop in your tipsy state.

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she teases, a smirk toying at her mouth, giving her cheeks subtle dimples. “Don’t leave me hanging. “Tell me what you really think. How I make you feel. I wanna hear,” her voice drops to a purr, leaning over the table to husk in your ear, “every little thing.”

“Ok then,” you concede. “You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.”

“I don’t see how,” she snorts, “but continue.”

Her attention never once fails you or turns away, enamoured with your every mere breath.

“You’re gorgeous. Your magnetic field is too strong for me to cope. Your energy draws me in. You’re all I want.”

“More.” she coaxes, a single word, but a whisper, and yet it stokes the embers of desire in the pit of your stomach, your forehead creasing to attempt to draw some concentration back from the depths of your mind where your fantasies about her saying that exact word in that exact breathy way linger.

Perhaps your adulation is excessive, but you don't miss the sparkle in her eyes at each compliment you dole. This is your final card, though, and you’re going to play it right, so you forget about the consequences of touching her hand in a darkness room, and simply intertwine your fingers, drawing your noses to meet over the table.

“You've ruined my life, by not being mine,” you profess, ensuring that your hot breath fans over her lips. You can feel her shudder. “And you know there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

“I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

And just like that, the world stops turning around you. Your heart lilts, your mind prattles on about all you want to say, all you want to do. But then it stops. And all of a sudden, you’re intrepid, desperate to ravish her and ruin her for all other women, eager to kiss her voraciously until you can scarcely breathe, yearning to feel her words of reassurance wrap around you, if only she agrees to your proposal over that of the hot bartender.

“Well, I’ve told you what's up, so I guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats. Alone... unless you wanna come along.”

You push away from the table and stand with a slight shrug, turning your back on her, making strides for the door and the storm bristling outside. Only, you barely make it to the door before Liz’s slender hand is wrapped around your arm, and is turning you back to her, tugging you closer, chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Fuck yes, księżniczka. After that, of course I’m coming.”

Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, a desperate battle of will, and her tongue slides over the seam of your lips. You grant her entry with an open mouth, heat skittering over your skin as she holds you tighter, closer, with a deeper urgency you don’t hesitate to match.

Her crystal eyes simmer as she withdraws, her forehead on yours. Her lips brush yours as she breathes, and she grabs your hand, heading out into the night with Liz, at long last.

“For the record, you’re gorgeous and perfect and drive me crazy too. Everything you said tonight, I echo. What can I say?”

You’re gorgeous.

#elizabeth debicki #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki imagine #jed roper #jed night manager #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki fic #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #wlw fluff #Spotify

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it.

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands)

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!!

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky.

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up.

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another.

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia.

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future.

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting.

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately.

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything.

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing.

Steve saw it as devotion.

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased.

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset.

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew.

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service.

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won.

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.”

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt.

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes.

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately.

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion.

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage.

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place.

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts.

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved.

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time.

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again.

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom.

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him.

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time.

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour.

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway.

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve.

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him.

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact.

Bucky knew better.

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it.

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people.

Bucky was fucked.

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home.

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all.

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again.

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back.

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear.

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs.

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him.

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything.

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help. No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency.

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him.

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow.

If he did, he'd get rewarded.

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem.

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one.

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried.

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation.

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything.

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him.

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years?

Bucky didn't know anymore.

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all.

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before.

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you."

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right?

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random.

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell.

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed.

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far.

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise.

They went entirely unused.

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve.

And breakfast now, apparently.

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve.

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe.

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters.

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit.

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody.

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him.

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking.

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing.

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky.

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

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cha-lyn · 4 years

Text

Milk & Eggs - Thirteen

Farmer!Bucky x Reader

Words: 2434

Summary: Small Town /Farmer Bucky AU // Reader leaves the city to go live with her grandma. She meets an attractive farmer and, no, they don’t hit it off.

Warnings: fluff and some angst. tiny baby farm life.

A/N: It’s been a minute..... 🙃 thanks for sticking around guys.. As always I love the feedback/likes/reblogs 💛 i have the next the next two chapters done so it won’t be another 6 months lol

Master List // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

---

The next morning you wake up naked and alone, much to your disappointment. You shiver and pull the single sheet around you. You inhale his smell as you nuzzle into the pillow. On Bucky’s pillow is a sticky note.

Choring. Be back soon.

You grin, curling up further and deciding to wait for your man in the warm bed instead of venturing out into the cold. Of course, you fall back into a light sleep, the shifting of the bed stirring you awake.

“Good morning beautiful,” Bucky smiled down at you, pieces of his hair falling down around his face.

“Join me,” you yawn, lifting the sheet and waving him in.

Bucky shakes his head. “If I get in there who will eat the huge breakfast I just made?” He kisses your forehead and gets up going to his chest of drawers. He tosses you a blue long sleeve t-shirt and starts back downstairs. “Hurry up, it’s gettin’ cold.”

Bucky had indeed prepared a feast. Bacon, pancakes for him, waffles for you, orange juice, hash browns and scrambled eggs. You sit down across from a grinning Bucky, crossing your bare legs, wearing only his t-shirt and your panties.

“That shirt looks good on you.”

You grab a piece of bacon and grin. “I agree. You might just never see it again.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Oh, I almost forgot, the livestock fair is next weekend. You still wanna go with me?” You nod, mouth already full of waffle. Bucky grins, stuffing his face, too.

As you rinsed the last glass, Bucky traps you in his arms, “Do you have to go bake now?” He sounded pitiful.

“I have a few minutes before I have to leave… Why what were you wanting to do?” You couldn’t suppress your smirk. Bucky’s rough hands slip under his own soft t-shirt. “Stop teasing,” you whine.

He scoffs, “You’re the one the that’s teasing. Skippin’ around my house in nothin’ but my t-shirt. Not even any pants on,” his lips brushing your ear, making you shiver.

You turn to face him, “Well. What do you want to do about it Buck?”

He snaps your hips towards him, “Just take you back upstairs. Ya know.. Help you change outta this.”

“Yes, that does sound like a two person job. What are you waiting for then?”

Bucky wasted no time dropping his hands to your thighs to pick you up and carry you straight back to his bedroom, giggling and kissing the whole way up.

The next week went by fast. You were busy at the bakery and Bucky was busy training the already hired Sam at the ranch. There had been some logistical issues--Sam accepted the job, but was struggling to find a place to live. You talked Bucky into letting Sam stay at his house while he looked. The pros of that were that Sam is absolutely hilarious and a great cook. The con was that you didn’t get to walk around with no pants on anymore.

Friday rolled around and as you rolled out fondant at the shop, the front bell rang. You peek around the corner, eyes falling on a gorgeous man covered in dirt.

“Hey slick.”

“Hey stranger.”

“Stranger? You saw me this morning.” Bucky leaned on the counter.

You leaned in to meet him, giving him a kiss, smelling the faint smells of dirt, sweat and coffee. “Was that this morning? Feels like days ago.”

“We didn’t get much sleep last night. Which is why,” out of nowhere a coffee cup appears, “I thought I’d stop by and bring you some caffeine.” Your face almost broke from smiling so hard. “And to remind you that we have to leave at 7am tomorrow.”

Your face fell and your eyes narrowed.

“You don't have to go, doll, really,” he reasoned. “It’s just a bunch of stinky animals.”

“Ugh, no I want to, I just want to go later,” you whine as you put a bear claw in a bag for him.

Bucky laughed as he stood to leave. “Sorry, no can do. We will stop for coffee on the way, though, promise. Bring your chorin’ boots when you come tonight, auctions tend to be muddy places.”

“Look at you assuming I’m coming over tonight.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Damn, lack of sleep makes you sassy. Don’t worry, I'll sleep on the couch-- let you get plenty of sleep tonight to make up for the last.” You scoff at him as he wiggles his eyes, hand already in the togo bag. “Thank you! See you tonight,” he leaves with a wink.

Bucky has you up at 6:30 am the next morning. You're dressed and upright, but not really awake. Sam was up, cracking jokes at the ungodly hour and trying to break your scowl as he flipped pancakes and scrambled his eggs. You and Bucky don’t actually leave until 7:08 because of your sluggish ass. (You’d forgotten where you left your boots and then misplaced your rain jacket. Miraculously, Bucky fought the scowl threatening to invade his face because you’re fuckin’ cute when you’ve just woke up.) Despite your moody slowness, Bucky kindly lets you sleep most of the way, waking you up when you're one town away.

“Hey wake up doll,” he reaches over, gently rubbing your shoulder. “C’mon, wake up. We’re close.” As you rub the sleep out of your eyes, Bucky pulls into the drive through of the only Starbucks in a hundred mile area. “You want your usual?”

You nod, “And an extra shot please.”

Bucky chuckles, ordering your drink perfectly, “I’ve never seen someone sleep so soundly on the road.”

You smile, “I trained myself to sleep in almost every car ride. I used to get really car sick as a kid. Road trips sucked, so I just slept through it. Still do.”

Bucky smiles, handing you a hot coffee and immediately sipping his. “So, the game plan for today is to buy three goats--one billy and two does.”

“Mmm and a dog.” Bucky raises his eyebrows as he merges back onto the interstate. “You said you might get one to help the herd or something.”

“Yeah, but now I have Sam to help with that.”

You roll your eyes. “If you get a dog maybe I’ll come over more,” you joke.

Bucky laughed, “You’re over all the time, slick. You come over anymore and you’ll have to move in.”

You choked on your sip, hot coffee burning your nose. Bucky’s eyes cut your way, watching you pick at your fingers.

“Uh… That was a joke…” he says unconvincingly.

You cough out a laugh, just as unconvincing. “Oh good. ‘Cause we barely know each other…”

“What do you mean?”

You blink at him, “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other Buck. Like a lot.”

“What better way to get to know each other than living together? Hypothetically,” Bucky shrugged.

You looked at him incredulously. “Whoa. Bucky. We are nowhere near that step,” you scoff.

“I’m just saying hypothetically, but whatever. We’re almost there. To the auction… not where ever you say we aren’t,” he said, voice clipped as he stared straight ahead.

You sense the shift in the truck. You’re not sure how to recover from this, but you don’t have to just yet.

Minutes later, you see a field full of pickups and trailers and behind them, tents and pens and more farm animals in one place than you’d ever seen. Bucky pulls into the field, driving the aisles until he finds a spot.

He turns off the engine. Sighing as he takes off his ball cap, running his hand through his hair and replacing the hat. “Ready?” He shoots you a half smile.

You nod returning it as best you can, “Let’s go find some goats.” But no fuckin’ dogs, you scold yourself mentally.

Turns out you love livestock auctions. Bucky loves them more, of course. He’s giddy at the sight of the first four-legged creature he sees. The awkwardness is forgotten quickly and soon it’s all smiles and rows of baby goats. One in particular that caught your eye.

“He was so cute though! I think you should get him.”

“Well, yes, but you’ve said that about all of them, slick. We’ve got to look around--get the best deal. This is an investment,” he said, finding your hand and pulling you on. The two of you patrolled the aisles, looking for the best goats the place had to offer. You passed several tents with pens of hunting and herding dogs and though every fiber of you wanted to stop and oogle over them, you refrained. You hoped Bucky didn’t notice.

After a while your stomach growled, “Stay here a minute doll.” Bucky disappeared into the crowd leaving you to pet a brown and white speckled kid, who bleats at you everytime you let up. You coo at him and rub the little nubs where his horns are barely sticking out.

Minutes later, it had begun to mist and Bucky returned with a basket of fries and two hot dogs. You surrender the baby goat back to the pen and find some hand sanitizer.

“Food! You read my mind,” you grab a crunchy fry.

“Actually, I just heard your stomach,” Bucky notes, chuckling and motioning you under a makeshift pavilion, picnic tables lining the inside of it. The two of you sit across from each other sharing the fries and eating in content silence. Bucky watches you as you happily munch on the fries. Your hair’s adorned with dew beads, some dropping unbothered onto your rain jacket.

You catch him staring and grin, fry midway to your mouth.

He grins back. “Do you like it?” he asks, looking out to the acres of animals.

“It’s awesome. I think I’m a goat person now.”

Bucky chuckles and finishes his hot dog. Once you’ve finished yours the two of you do a couple more rounds, Bucky finally choosing the goats he wanted to take home. The goats are paid for and led back to the truck bed where you help Bucky load them into travel crates. They bleat affectionately at you and Bucky.

“They’re so cute,” you sat rubbing one on the forehead. It nuzzles into your hand.

“Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” Bucky closed the crates. “You ready to go?”

“Of course. I mean you’re in charge. I’m just tagging along.”

Bucky nods. “Let’s go then.” You immediately stretch out when you get in the truck and he chuckles. “Gonna take another nap, slick?”

Your eyes roll. “Now I won't, just to prove a point,” you grin over at him. It’s just eye contact at first, and then it’s not. Then it’s Bucky leaning in and you’re meeting him halfway. His hand creeps up to caress your cheek as he kisses you. He pulls you closer, you bite his lip just hard enough to earn a grin so big it breaks the kiss.

“You’re something else, Y/N. Truly.”

“Not me,” you blush.

His eyes searching yours, looking for an answer. “You really think we barely know each other?”

You sigh, shaking your head, “No, I just--It’s just early in this.” You motion between the two of you. “It’s still new.”

Bucky nods slowly, pulling at a string on his jacket, “Doesn’t mean I don’t know you though. Or that you don’t know me. You know things about me nobody else knows…” he absent mindedly scratched at his left arm, pausing as the rain picked up outside, tapping away at the roof of the truck. “I know your Starbucks order, for hot days and for cold days. I know your favorite wine. I know you hate baking those mini eclairs but you love eating them.”

You’re blushing deeply now. “It’s just really soon, Buck. I don’t know if we’re ready for that.”

Bucky sighs, starting the truck, but leaving it in park. “We might not be completely ready, but I mean… we’re on the way right?”

You bite your lip, blinking at his question. “I don’t--I can’t see the future…” You trial off, extremely unsure of what to say.

Bucky somewhat aggressively shifts into reverse and pulls out of the spot. It’s quiet and tense as he pulls out onto the main road. Neither of you speak for the first 30 or so minutes and you can feel the tension building. You dread this kind of confrontation.

“If you can’t see a future with me, why do you want to get a dog with me? What are we even doing?”

You scoff, which irritates Bucky, “Maybe the dog thing was an ill-timed joke… I never said I don’t see a future with you, I just said I can’t see it. Like right now. I like you a lot, but this also feels like it’s gone so fast and I--”

“I didn’t think you had a problem with how fast it’s going?” Bucky counters.

“I never said I did, Buck.” You rub your temples. You recognize the scenery around you, meaning you’re getting close to not being trapped in his truck. “I just like where we are right now. I don’t wanna overthink what we have.”

Bucky is silent for a long while, until he turns into his driveway. “Can you see it changing one day?”

“Bucky…. Why the sudden need for future plans?”

Bucky puts the truck in park as his fingers beat on the steering wheel. “I think about that kinda stuff I guess. Wanna know what we are doing in this… relationship.”

“I thought we did.”

“We do… I just-”

“It’s fine. I need to get home.I haven’t seen Grams all weekend and we gotta get ready for the week.” You hop out of his truck, digging in your purse for your keys.

He rounds the truck as you find them. “Are you mad at me?”

You look up at him, blue eyes wide with concern. “No.. no. It’s just a lot to think about.” You reach up to fidget with the collar of his shirt, just an excuse to touch him really. It seems to diffuse some of the tension between you.

Bucky looks down at you, “Okay...”

A small smile breaks. “Well, why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow? Grams would like to see you.”

Even though it’s not quite what he wanted to hear, Bucky’s eyes brightened. “Tell me when and I’ll be there.” Though you kissed him goodbye slowly, some tension still lingered in his chest. He waved as you pulled away, missing you the moment you were out of sight.

Taglist: Much love to y’all 😘

@notatallfriendly @thechaoticargonaut @booktease21 @iamwarrenspeace @titty-teetee @harryngtonewithyourshit

@mcueveryday @peakyrogers @thedepressedsponge

Everything- @thefridgeismybestie @basically-introverted

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x poc #yeehaaw #MCU fanfiction #mcu au #cowboy!bucky #b.b.#bucky barnes is a farmer

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Seventeen)

Get some tissues ready, folks.

MASTERLIST HERE

**************

It had been three days.

Three days of calling Tony and the phone going right to voicemail, three days of reconnecting with Stevie, three days of pre- war memories coming back sometimes in a trickle that made James smile, sometimes in a shock wave that sent the soldier to his knees with a migraine.

Three days, and James’s head spun trying to keep it all together, trying to keep it all straight, trying to piece together all the parts of who he had been and who he was now and how it all reconciled with the nightmares and horror that came back full force without Tony by his side.

Three days, and sometimes James wished he could lose track of time like he used to so each and every second wouldn’t be so crystal clear, so clarifying and so real.

Three days and sometimes it was already too much.

Three days and sometimes the moments were so good they hurt.

“I still can’t believe it’s actually you.” Three days and seventy damn years and Steve was proving he hadn’t ever lost the habit of lurking in James’s door, hands in his pockets and eyes wide as he watched the brunette clean up in the bathroom. “Holy hell, Buck. I looked for you for so long. And you were just hanging out with Howard’s kid? Three days ago Tony Stark walked into my apartment with a picture of you and just like that, here you are. I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe it either, Stevie.” James rinsed the shaving cream off his face and smoothed his right hand over the trimmed-but-not-quite-shaved stubble. It had only been three days since Tony had dropped him off and left without a word. Three days of a lot of wondering and a lot of worrying and a lot of disbelief because it was Stevie--- “How did I miss your star spangled ass getting pulled outta the ocean and set loose overseas again?”

“Well, you weren’t around to see me go in the ice the first time, so I guess it makes sense you missed me coming back this time around.” The smile slid from Steve’s face, his mouth pulling down at the corners. “Listen, Buck I dunno what you heard about all that. About the Valkyrie and the Red Skull and what I did at the end of the war but--””

“I heard enough to know you’re overdue for an ass whoopin’.” James retorted and see? This was good enough to hurt, easy enough to almost be instinct. Threatening Steve with bodily harm cos the punk hadn’t learned any lessons back when he was all of four fuckin’ feet tall and he certainly hadn’t learned them after they juiced him up and sometimes the brash blond just needed a reminder to chill the hell out?

Easy.

James could do this all day.

“What the hell were you thinkin’, putting the damn plane in the ice anyway.” He teased. “Everyone knows your scrawny ass can’t swim.”

Instantly predictably Steve straightened up and set his jaw and snapped, “Hey! I know how to swim! I am an excellent swimmer!”

“You know how’ta drown.” James corrected and then oofed theatrically loud when he was yanked out of the bedroom and into a wrestling match.

It was easy and it was good and none of James’s more scary instincts came forward when Steve got him into a headlock, the urge to break didn’t show up overwhelming when he tossed the blond halfway across the room then jumped over and pinned him to the floor.

“Say Uncle.” James ordered and he was laughing, not counting how many pounds of pressure it would take to crumble Steve’s bones between his fingers. “Damn you, Stevie. Say Uncle before I gotta hurt you!”

“I’m goddamn--” Steve was huffing and puffing trying to get James off of him. “Captain America-- I don’t cry Uncle-- good god, why do you weigh so much?-- to any one!”

“Sure you don’t.” James grinned and lay harder on his best friend. “Y’know what this reminds me of?”

“If you say it’s like the time I tried to beat up the alter boy--”

“--it’s just like th’time you tried to beat up the alter boy.” James confirmed, batting away Steve’s hand when the blond made a grab for his throat. “In fact, I feel like I sat on you exactly like this to keep ya from gettin’ your butt beat with a hymnal.”

“Damn it.” Steve wheezed a few times, then finally managed the leverage to shove James off and to the side. “Why are you so heavy? Last time we wrestled I destroyed you.”

“Last time we wrestled you were super juiced and I was still a good ol’ boy from the poor end of Brooklyn.” James jumped to his feet and hauled Steve up next to him. “Least now the playing field is even.”

“I guess.” Steve went for a beer and tossed one to James. “I hate that it’s the case though. M’glad to see you, but I hate seein’ you like this, you know?”

“Don’t.” James tore the top off the beer and shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it yet, Stevie.”

“Alright.” Steve took a sip of his beer and nodded like ignoring the elephant of the Winter Soldier in the room wasn’t making him half insane. He should just be happy to have Bucky back, he should just be happy to have his friend back, they didn’t have to talk about everything bad yet. “Alright, well have you heard about World Wrestling Entertainment on TV?”

“World Wrestling…”

“WWE?” Steve’s goofy grin almost split his face. “They dress up in funky costumes and wrestle each other with all these fancy moves. I watch it on Saturday nights. We could watch it and drink beer and yell at the TV and then try the moves on each other!”

James fought and lost against an equally goofy grin. “That’s what Captain America does on Saturday night? Watch fake wrestling and drink beer?”

“When I’m not out blowing buildings up and hurting people until they told me how to find you.” Steve took a long drink of his beer, blue eyes glittering with a flash of anger. “But I found you, so now I get to watch bad television and try to get drunk with my best pal.”

“Sounds like a good time.” James raised his bottle in a cheers, and when Steve turned to head towards the living room, James picked up his phone and sent a quick message to Tony.

From James: Three days with Stevie has been great, Tony but I sure wish you’d call me back. Pep says you’re probably just giving us space but I don’t want space from you. Call me back.

“Buck!”

“Comin’, Stevie.”

*****************

79%

The sunrise from the top of the Eiffel Tower was incredible to see and Tony watched it while munching on possibly the freshest, most delicious croissant he could have ever imagined eating ever.

He’d been to France a hundred times, he’d even been to Paris and the Eiffel Tower specifically a hundred times but he’d never broken the sound barrier while coming in for a landing that had him on very tip toes at the very tip top so he could test the absolute balance of the suit while eating a breakfast he’d bought with a Rolex for since he never had any cash on him.

The croissant was worth the Rolex though, the look on the vendor’s face when Iron Man landed in front of his stall completely priceless and the view of the sun coming up over the city would have only been worth more if someone had been there to share it with.

“Sir, the hotel is calling. They want to know if you will be staying another night.”

“Tell them no.” Tony shook his head and crammed the last bite of croissant into his mouth. “Three days in France is enough, I saw the coast and the city and the countryside so it’s time to move on. I read in a pamphlet that there are something like twenty thousand castles in Germany, is that true?”

“Most have been converted to hotels and museums by now, but yes sir, there are several thousand that you could visit if you wanted.”

“I want.” Tony decided. “Let’s get a map and go sight seeing.”

“Sir, the effort of assembling and disassembling this particular suit--”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony interrupted. “It stresses my system too much. But I’ve never just traveled for the sake of traveling and the best way to do that is at some number with Mach in front of it. Plug in some coordinates and let’s go.”

“And the phone calls from Sergeant Barnes and Ms. Potts?”

“Send Pepper a message and let her know I’m just fine.” The sun lit up the grounds below the Tower and Tony took a deep breath of early morning air. “I’ve disappeared for longer doing much worse than sight seeing, let her know this isn’t anything like the last time I did a tour around Europe.”

“And Sergeant Barnes?”

“Tell James--” Tony closed his eyes and swallowed. “Tell Bucky that I hope he’s enjoying his time with Captain Rogers and that I’ll get in contact with him when I return home.”

“An estimated return date, sir?”

The face plate snapped down and locked and Tony blinked a few times as the display screens filled in, the numbers uploaded from the blood toxicity monitor bright red along the bottom right hand side.

79%

“A couple weeks, maybe.” he muttered, and then louder, “No, don’t bother with a return date. Just tell him I’ll call him when I’m home again.”

“Yes sir. To castles, then?”

“To castles.” The suit powered up with a roar, and Tony offered a quick salute to the crowd gathered down below with their phones and cameras out. “Maybe we’ll ever get lucky and find a dragon.”

“I think you’ve fought enough battles for one life time, sir”

Tony’s smile was a little melancholy. “You’d think so, huh?”

****************

From James: Got the message from JARVIS and I hope you’re back home soon. I’m feeling more like myself every day, all my memories coming back. Some days it feels incredible and some days it feels like I’m living a strangers life, but me and Stevie are figuring it out together.

From James: Do you ever watch WWE? Stevie loves it and has a bunch recorded...or TV’ed? I dunno. Anyway. He says he would be Hollywood Hulk Hogan if he ever went into the ring and I told him there’s no way he could grow a mustache like that, then he punched me.

From James: The dude’s a punk whether he’s pint sized or full sized.

From James: Miss ya, sweet thing.

“The best thing about this century is the food.” Steve said around a mouthful of deep dish supreme pizza. “Not only can I eat everything without getting sick, but everything is so damn good. Deep dish pizza in two dozen flavors. Chocolate milk-- have you had chocolate milk yet, Buck? And mozzarella sticks? They just deep fry cheese! Just deep fry it and then serve it to ya with a bunch of sauce. The other day I ate about a hundred of them and didn’t get a stomach ache. Incredible. And oh man donuts.”

The big blond picked up another piece and folded it in half so he could take a big bite. “Have you had donuts yet? So many flavors. All of them delicious.”

“Tony took me to get donuts a few weeks ago.” James checked his phone again and then one more time. It had been nine days now since he’d last seen Tony, his text messages going unanswered and phone calls dumped to voicemail. Nine days and even though every second spent with Steve gave James something of himself back, every second spent away from Tony cost him something too and it was a delicate balance between wanting and losing and James hated it.

“We ate them up inside that big donut down by the pier in Malibu.” he continued and Steve mumbled interested around a glob of cheese. “It was uh-- it was his birthday and he said he’d always wanted to sit up in the donut so I boosted him up. It was a good day.”

“Tony knows about the super serum.” Steve ventured and James made a vague ‘I guess’ motion. “Did he know about it before all this?”

“Don’t think so, or at least he never said nothing.” James picked off a bunch of pepperoni and tossed it away, then smiled begrudgingly when Steve immediately scarfed it up. “You still eat like you’re starvin’, Stevie. You used’ta do that all the time.”

“Yeah, and you used to pretend like you were never hungry so there was always more for me.” Steve helped himself to the rest of the pepperoni on number two of their three large sized pizzas. “Even after I got all Captain’d up. You doing that now?”

“Maybe I’d eat my fair share if you’d stop eatin’ so fast.” James scowled and slapped Steve’s hand away from another piece. “M’hungry too, you know!”

“Sorry.” Steve put both hands up peacefully, then lightning fast snatched at the last of their two dozen bread sticks. “Okay, now I’m sorry. I swear. Tell me more about Tony though, you don’t talk much about him. Is he a lot like Howard?”

“No.” James said shortly. “No, he’s nothing like Howard.”

He was quiet after that and Steve chewed through a bite slowly and took his time to swallow before asking, “Buck, should we talk about--”

“When did you start feeling like you fit in?” James cut in and Steve took it for the hint it was. Bucky did not want to talk about Tony yet and Steve didn’t really know why but he knew better than to push. “When did you start feelin’ like you weren’t just pretending to be normal?”

“About a week ago when you walked through that door.” Steve didn’t hesitate to answer as he pointed towards the apartment entryway. “The second I saw you I stopped feeling like I had to keep up some sort of appearance and I could just be me again. Not Captain Rogers, certainly not Captain America. Just Steve. Stevie. Didn’t have to check my strength to hug you, didn’t have to pretend I didn’t want to cry for finding you again, don’t have to act like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

He said the last sentence pointedly, meaningfully. “You’re my best friend, Buck. You saved my ass that first time I didn’t need it at all in elementary school and every time after. You were there the first time I tried to kiss a dame, coached me through the uh--” he coughed. “--mechanics the first time I was with a dame. Dunno how that all worked though, seeing as how you weren’t ever interested in what was up their skirts.”

“I found my way up there a time or two.” James smiled a tiny bit remembering those first awkward, fumbling times with the girls around the neighborhood. He’d been young and fuckin’ horny and even though he found himself looking at the fellas more often than not, the girls sure liked his blue eyes and swagger so that’s the direction James had leaned. A learning experience for sure, one that taught him how to please a dame and that dames weren’t the ones he wanted to be pleasing all in the same swoop.

“Well either way, I could always be myself around you.” Steve finished with a half hearted shrug. “And it’s the same now. I’ve been outta the ice for three years and this is the first time I’ve felt like I wasn’t pretending. Right here with you.”

“Three years, huh?” James’s heart sank thinking about years of never feeling normal outside of time with Steve and Tony, years of catching himself before acting, years of dealing with internal dialogue that rang like hollow commands and the instinct to first destroy and then run from anything that made him uncomfortable. “M’real sorry about that, Stevie.”

“It’s alright.” Steve put the pizza down and wiped his hands. “I never fit in back then anyway, Buck. Not when I was skinny and scrawny and orphaned after Ma passed, not when I was super charged and wearing tights. At least in this century I’m not the biggest guy in any room, there’s entire sports teams my size and bigger. No one outside of SHIELD knows I can bench press a helicopter, but I’ve been called one of those ‘corn fed midwestern boys’ at least a half dozen times and I’m not sure what exactly it means, but it sounds All American and normal so I’ve been letting it go.”

“Sure, I gotta pace myself on my morning runs so no one gets suspicious, and I’ve gotta be careful shaking peoples hands. I nod and smile through a lot of conversations cos I dunno what a tweet is or why JT brought Sexy Back or why it left or nothing. but hell Buck.” Steve grinned again, all boyish charm and nearly unbridled enthusiasm just like he’d always been. “If that’s the worst I gotta do to get by as normal? Then it’s fine by me.”

“And with you I just don’t gotta pretend even that amount, so it’s nice.” Steve tapped at his chest, right over his heart. “It’s like being able to take a full breath in after battlin’ a cold all season.”

And after a pause, “Don’t you feel like that with me?”

James shoved most of his pizza into his mouth just to avoid answering for a minute, unsure how to tell his best friend that every time he heard the words Captain America something went tense and tight inside him, a trigger like a warning, like a mission, like an objective that had blared loud the first time they spoke. The reaction had been almost impossible to ignore at first, but had finally started to ease the in the last few days and it made him sick to his stomach.

He didn’t understand why Stevie of all people would make him itch. This was his best friend, his best pal, and James shouldn’t feel anything but happy around Steve. Comfortable. Home. Not having to fight the instinct to go of the offensive every time he saw that damn shield.

It was frustrating and disheartening and even thought it waned a little more every day, James still hated it. It was just another reminder that he wasn’t Bucky anymore, that there were parts of him Steve would never know and never understand.

Tony knew those parts though.

Tony knew him.

Tony knew James.

“Buck?” Steve asked, soft and a little hurt but trying hard to hide it. “Do you feel like that with me?”

“I don’t have to pretend with you, Stevie.” James clenched his left fist just to prove it and the beer bottle shattered in his palm, spilling glass all over. “Don’t gotta be careful when we wrestle or worry about sayin’ the wrong thing or keeping up on all the technology. But--”

“--but there’s a whole bunch about you I don’t know anymore.” Steve finished resignedly. “And a lot about me you don’t know anymore. What happened after you fell changed me and what happened while I was in the ice changed you and I’ve been living one life for three years while you’ve still been putting pieces together…”

He nodded. “I get it. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Sorry, Stevie.” James closed his eyes and wished and wished and wished that he was still Bucky. Just Bucky. Just good ol’ boy Bucky who pulled Steve out of back alley fights and hid stolen kisses from nameless faces in the dark.

Life was so much simpler back then...

...simpler and hidden and filled with so much less laughter and love.

James didn’t want to be hidden anymore. Not now that he knew what it felt like to be found.

From James: Tomorrow Stevie wants to take me to a baseball game, turns out the Yankees still play so we’re gonna get hot dogs and cracker jacks and boo the visiting team like we used to. Would be more fun if you were there.

From James: Miss ya, sweet thing.

*************

86%

“Tony.” Pepper looked up in outright shock along with every other board member who had never seen Tony Stark on time for anything much less for a quarterly board meeting. “Um. Hi?”

“Don’t mind me, Ms. CEO.” Tony slid into the chair next to Pepper and patted at her knee. “I just figured I could make an appearance for once. As the on-staff mechanic for Stark Industries I am very interested in board meetings. Please continue, don’t let me interrupt.”

“Al...right.” Pepper blinked at least a thousand times, then cleared her throat and mentioned for the person at the front of the conference room to keep talking. “Sorry for the interruption, please continue.”

The meeting droned on, and Tony lasted all of two minutes and four seconds before patting at Pepper’s knee again and whispering, “Hey. You’re allergic to strawberries.”

“Yes.” she whispered back. “Yes, I am but what does that have to do with why you’ve suddenly decided for once in your life to show up for a board meeting?”

“Because every year I get you something strawberry themed for your birthday.” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Because all I manage to remember is there is something important to you about strawberries but this year, I remembered that you’re allergic and that’s why you always do that cute scrunch nose that means you’re pissed off but trying to be polite.”

“...you are one hundred percent correct.”

“And I am one hundred percent sorry for taking like fourteen years to figure it out.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, pressed it into Pepper’s palm beneath the table. “But I couldn’t resist buying you one last strawberry.”

“One last strawberry?” she muttered and Tony nodded. “So this will be the last time you buy me something I’m incredibly and ugly-allergic to? You promise?”

“I promise this will be the last time--” the very last time. “--I buy you something you’re incredibly allergic to.” Tony swore. “And by the way? You’re never ugly. Not once in your entire life have you been ugly.”

“I feel like you’re sucking up to compensate for being gone for two weeks with no word.” Pepper hissed, then raised a hand apologetically when several heads swiveled their way. “And another damn strawberry isn’t going to make up for the fact that I’ve been worried sick for-- Holy shit, is that real?!”

Whispering forgotten, Pepper clapped her hand over her mouth when she cursed out loud in the meeting over the sight of this particular strawberry. “Tony Stark what the fuck?!”

“Uh, forgive us guys.” Tony laughed and put a hand over Pepper’s mouth too. “And I’m just now realizing how embarrassing it is that I don’t know any of your names considering you’ve been my board members for the past twenty years, but you’ll have to excuse the new CEO. Apparently there are some things that do rattle the always unflappable Ms. Potts.”

“Yeah!” Pepper blurted. “Like when I’ve got my hand on a ridiculously big--” Tony snorted a laugh and Pepper jumped to her feet to drag him out of the board room while calling apologies over her shoulder.

“Tell me, Ms. Potts.” Tony asked once they were in his her office. “What ridiculously big thing do you have your hand on?”

“Tony, what is this?” Pepper opened the box again and held up the beautiful huge ring. “Is this a pink diamond? Why--”

“This is the Strawberry Pink Diamond.” Tony took the ring and slipped it onto Pepper’s middle finger. “It’s out of Brazil. Do you like it?”

“The last strawberry thing you’re going to buy me is a strawberry diamond?” Pepper’s voice was still doing that high pitched squeaky thing. “Tony, what is this for?”

“It’s because I love you.” he said simply, and tossed the box onto her desk. “And because the ring was ridiculously over priced which meant I had to have it and I couldn’t think of anyone else who would look half this pretty wearing it.”

“It’s so big.” For all her practicality, Pepper couldn’t help gaping at the arrangement, at the beautifully pink center diamond and the contrasting blue gems around it. “Tony, seriously what the hell, it’s so big. It’s like an iceberg! I can’t even see where the Titanic hit it! What is this, four carats?”

“Almost exactly.” Tony smiled to himself watching Pepper smile so big. “Do you like it?”

“Well I can promise to never complain about strawberries again if this is what you mean!” Pepper flushed in pleasure, holding her hand up to the light to watch the sun sparkle off the stones. “And I’ll also never complain about you disappearing if you always bring me back sparkly things.”

“The next time I disappear, I’ll bring you back sparkly things.” Tony promised, swallowing around the grief clawing up his throat. “Now how about you step off those sky scrapers you call shoes and give me a kiss so I can go home and shower. The trip back from Brazil was a sweaty one.”

“You’re disgusting.” Pepper laughed softly and bent down to kiss Tony very gently on the lips. “And I take off my heels for no one, Mr. Mechanic. Not now that I’m the CEO.”

“That’s my girl.” Tony laughed right back, then picked up her hand and kissed her palm. “The ring looks better on you than it ever did on display in that jewelry store. Keep it. Wear it all the time.”

“Thank you.” Pepper pulled Tony in for a tight hug. “I’ve been worried about you, are you okay? After you got James together with Captain Rogers you just fell off the map. I’ve been worried.”

“Well I’m just fine now that I’m squished in your boobs.” Tony mumbled and Pepper jabbed at his side with a quick, “Oh shut up, you don’t even like boobs.”

“Pepper, everyone likes your boobs.” He countered and she huffed and pushed him away. “How late are you in meetings tonight?”

“At least another couple hours.” Pepper smoothed the wrinkles from her suit. “And don’t think I don’t see you dodging the question about James. Dinner tonight and we can talk about it?”

“I owe Rhodey a grossly big steak, but we can have breakfast tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll make you something delicious.”

“You’ll have donuts with me and not complain when the cream filling splooges on your blouse.” He countered and Pepper sighed. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Pepper paused at the board room door and blew him a kiss. “I’m glad you’re home again, Tony.”

“Me too, Pep. Me too.”

86%

******************

James woke screaming--

--James woke trying to scream, shredding the blankets between his fists and arching up off the bed and then something pinned him down and he tried to scream louder--

“Bucky!” Steve was shouting at him, grabbing at his arms and laying all his not inconsiderable weight across the other soldier. “Bucky! Wake up! It’s a nightmare, bud! It’s a nightmare, just wake up!”

It was cold and James was scared. It was cold and he was falling. It was cold and it hurt so bad when they took his arm, when they cut torn tendons and sawed away splintered bone and it was cold when they shoved him into a container and it was cold cold cold as the ice climbed the window and silenced his scream and--

“Bucky.”

James jerked awake, surged forward and grabbed for Tony, “Tony?!”

“Hey hey hey, it’s me. It’s Stevie. It’s me.”

It was blue eyes not dark brown. Blonde hair not soft curls. Mouth set in a grim line instead of lips parted laughing.

It was Steve, not Tony.

“Stevie.” James fell forward and collapsed into Steve’s arms, let his friend take his weight and soothe his shaking. “Jesus Christ.”

“What is it?” Steve ran his hands through James’s hair, across the broad shoulders, skittering away from the hard edge of metal to press at James’s back instead. “What was that? Was it like--” he swallowed. “--was it like after Azzano when you had nightmares? About what they did to you at the camp?”

“No.”

“Winter Soldier stuff then.” Steve nearly whispered, and James nodded almost imperceptibly into his shoulder. “The-- the chair they kept you in? The cryo chamber?”

“Fuckin’ cold, Stevie.”

“Yeah.” Steve felt around for a blanket and drew it up around James’s shoulders. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”

They hadn’t really talked about it, about James’s time with Hydra. Steve had confirmed only enough to explain the flashes James got, the tactical knowledge and the way he could measure potential injuries with just a glance. Steve had mentioned the chair, which explained the panic attack in Tony’s lab. He talked about the memory wipes and the cryo freeze and the way they’d used James for decades which is why his memory and concept of time was all over the place.

Steve hadn’t talked about the missions. He swore on the Bible, on puttin’ flowers on their Ma’s graves, on the time they’d gone on the Cyclone and Stevie had barfed for hours-- he swore he hadn’t read the files, promised Natasha had burned them all the ash, told James over and over that it wasn’t about what he’d done as their prisoner, as their captor. It wasn’t even about what had been done to James, it was about him being safe and about him being home.

So no, they hadn’t really talked about it, nothing more than a few confirmations of James’s fears and then the topic had been dropped.

Why dwell on the past when they both somehow had a new future? Why stress about all the things they couldn’t control when they finally had the chance to move on?

No, they hadn’t really talked about it, nothing more than just enough to bring James’s nightmares back and Steve felt guilty about it every time.

“I shouldn’t have told you.” he started and James shook his head, “I needed the answers, Stevie. Needed them. It’s okay.”

“You want some hot chocolate?”

“Want some cheeseburgers.” James grunted. “Want a damn cheeseburger.”

“Okay where from--”

“I got a guy.”

From James: Happy, I need a burger.

From Happy: I’m already a glass of wine deep into my evening and watching my Downton Abby, what in the hell am I supposed to do about that?

From James: I need a CHEESEburger.

From Happy: I’ll call a guy who knows somebody. Give me an hour.

An hour later there was a polite knock at Steve’s apartment door, and the fanciest dressed delivery guy either of them had ever seen smiled, handed over a greasy bag of cheeseburgers from James’s favorite franchise, then turned on an expensive heel and stalked away.

“Uh Buck?” Steve held up the bag in confusion. “Why did we get cheeseburgers delivered by some guy in a penguin suit?”

“Happy knows a guy who knows somebody.” James was freshly showered and feeling better, but he felt better better when he could flop down on the couch and tear into the food. “Have one Stevie, they’re so good.”

“...what’s with the cheeseburgers?” Steve sat down slowly and reached for one of the paper wrapped sandwiches. “Why does it seem like a big thing?”

“It’s Tony’s thing.” James explained, wiping ketchup from his mouth. “Or Happy’s thing for Tony, I dunno. Something about how any time Tony’s having a hard time, he wants cheeseburgers and it’s Happy’s job to get them. Pep has a bad day, Happy grabs some cheeseburgers. Rhodey--”

“Rhodey. You mean Colonel James Rhodes?”

“--Rhodey.” James nodded. “Rhodey even gets them, and the first time me and Happy hung out, he got ‘em for me too. They make me feel better.”

“Alright.” Steve took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Buck, you don’t ever talk about Tony. I mean, you talk about him but you never come right out and say anything real. Why not?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Cos I watched you hide for years.” Steve said bluntly, and James flushed. “I watched you sneak out way late at night to meet someone and then see the same person in the daylight and act like you’d never seen them before. I watched you dance with the dames just so you didn’t have to stand alone at the wall. I watched you hide and now we’re both here in a time where you don’t have to hide…”

Steve let the sentence dangle, but James didn’t answer. “M’just sayin’ Buck. The man that showed up here cared an awful lot about you, and I can see it your eyes you care about him. I sorta thought you’d have a damn wedding ring on your finger when you came in, or figured I’d get a hug then you two would run off into the sunset. So why don’t you talk about him?”

A beat of silence, and Steve added awkwardly, “Is it-- I mean, you ain’t ashamed, are you? You don’t have to be ashamed, Buck. I know the neighborhood fellas were real assholes back in the day but it’s okay now, you know? People are okay with all of that now, with fellas liking fellas and-- girls-- you know.”

He spread his hands vaguely. “Or anyway, most people are, and we can just punch the ones who aren’t.”

“M’not ashamed, Stevie.” James denied. “Just uh-- “ he chuckled softly. “You know how I used to punch you if you’d come and try to talk to me about Peggy? Figure you’d do the same thing if I told you about how me and Tony get in bed.”

“I definitely don’t want to hear how you and Howard’s kid are in bed.” Steve immediately objected, and then softer, “But I loved Pegs and I feel like what you and Tony have got is more along those lines too, yeah? So why haven’t you talked to me about him?”

“Stevie.” James bit at his tongue until it bled-- and then healed-- as he tried not to think of the dozens of messages he’d sent in the last weeks, the phone calls that hadn’t been answered, the way Pepper had texted to let him know Tony was in Malibu but was buried in some project in the lab and barely talking to anyone, not to take it personally.

But James was taking it personally because he physically ached to get Tony back in his arms. Because every morning he woke up in Steve’s spare bedroom instead of Tony’s bed felt awful. Because he felt like he was hiding away again instead of being free in the pure sunshine that was Tony’s smile.

He was miserable and maybe even a little heart broken and missed Tony until he hurt from it.

Steve was his best friend but Tony had found him.

“He found me, Stevie.” James whispered and the Captain stilled next to him. “Tony he-- he found me. I was nothing and I was nobody and Tony saw me from across the room and found me. I didn’t even know my last name or how long I’d been homeless or what the hell I was doing in D.C. and Tony didn’t care. He found me and he saw me. He saw me.”

“He gave me a home.” James opened and closed his left hand, silver fingers gleaming. “Put me back together. My body, my heart-- hell Stevie, I think he gave me my mind back.”

“So why haven’t you talked about him?” Steve pressed. “Buck if he found you and gave you a home why aren’t you two goin’ after a happily ever after together? Been long enough in the making, don’t you want it?”

“Course I want it, but Tony hasn’t talked to me since he brought me here.” James tightened his fingers into a fist. “He’s not answering my calls, he’s not getting my texts and I don’t know what’s going on. Sure seems like what I want and what he wants are different things.”

“No way.” Steve denied. “No way. He probably just figured we’d need the time to catch up. Seventy years apart makes for a lot of conversation, Buck. Maybe Tony thinks he’s doing you a favor or is bein’ subtle so it’s not awkward if you decide you want to stay here or whatever.”

“There’s nothing subtle about Tony.” James disagreed. “Nothing subtle or tactful or-- or anything like that, not when he’s being funny, not when he’s being nice. Hell Stevie, the first time we were together he sat me down and just told me he wanted to take me to bed, or wanted me to take him to bed, whichever I preferred. He told off some high and mighty politician who looked at me wrong and I-- I know he’s sick.”

“I know he’s sick.” James finished on a sigh. “That’s why I’m so worried. He’s probably at the doctors at the hospital and ditched me here with you so I wouldn’t have to see him go through it. He lied to me about it all the time and I can’t even be made about it cos he was doing it so I wouldn’t worry. Me and Ms. Potts and Rhodey and Happy.”

“So he’s not being subtle about letting you stay here, he’s being pretty damn obvious that you should stay here.” Steve clarified. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” James’s pale eyed dimmed in distress. “Half of me thinks I should show up and force him to talk to me. The other half knows I should let him work through it how he wants. I’m just worried. I had enough of watchin’ you almost die every winter Stevie, I don’t want to do it with Tony too.”

"...exactly how sick is Tony?” Steve asked slowly. “Cos I over heard Fury and Natasha talking about him the other day and they sounded worried too.”

“I don’t like Fury, Steve. He’s got too many secrets.”

“Yeah, even his trench coat’s got secrets, I know.” Steve pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “And I dunno why he was talking about Tony, but let’s just call and ask. No worries. We’ll figure it out.”

No worries, Steve said like there wasn’t anything strange about a man like Fury talking with a woman like Natasha about Tony.

No worries, Steve said like James could ignore the uncomfortable that had crawled down his spine the first time Fury had shown up and looked him over with his one good eye and made an unimpressed noise in his throat while patting at his gun with his free hand.

No worries, Steve said like James had been able to sleep at all the last several weeks knowing Tony was out there who knows where and alone and ignoring calls and messages--

“Captain Rogers. I thought you’d be too busy with your boyfriend to report in for duty.”

“I’m not reporting in for duty.” Steve said blandly, and then almost belatedly, “Oh and Buck isn’t my boyfriend. Sheesh. No we wanna know why you and Nat were talking about Tony the other day. Bucky hasn’t heard from him in a few weeks.”

“No one has heard from Stark in a few weeks.” Fury answered shortly. “The guy’s been finalizing his will and naming beneficiaries and spending the last couple weeks sight seeing everything the world has to offer. You can’t expect a dying man to keep up on text messages.”

Silence in the apartment, and Steve turned wide, horrified eyes to James.

“...what did he say.” James whispered in disbelief. “What did he say about Tony dying?”

“Director can you repeat--”

“Romanov gave him a shot in the neck the day he barged into your life, but it wasn’t meant to last long term. You telling me the world’s best soldier and your best friend Mega Scary Assassin didn’t notice the black lines all over his chest and crawling up his neck?”

“Tony is dying?”

“Palladium poisoning thanks to that battery in his chest.” Fury had the good grace to at least sound somewhat apologetic about dropping the news so unexpectedly. “Rogers, Barnes, I really thought you two knew. Figured you were giving him space to die in peace.”

Silence silence silence and then the sound of something breaking and Fury waited a beat before asking, “You still there?”

“I need transportation to Malibu for Buck!” Steve sounded like he was running now, breathing hard as he pounded down the stairs and out of his apartment building. “I need it now! Something fast!”

“Pick up location?” Fury asked over the noise of horns honking and someone screaming in alarm. “Rogers? Where are you and Barnes?”

“Bucky took off running down the goddamn freeway.” Steve shouted. “He’s going too fast for me to keep up--”

“--Shit, I didn’t think anyone could outrun your spangled ass--”

“--I need a craft for pick up as soon as possible! Give me an ETA!”

“I can have something airborne from HQ in two minutes. What’s his current position?”

“Running along the top of the bus past the bridge at fourth?”

“Oh motherfuck--”

*************

“Sir?”

Tony’s hands were shaking as he picked up the blood monitor, and he hissed in pain when his nearly fried nerves lit up in agony over the tiny prick.

“Sir, if I could interrupt?”

“Jesus Christ.” Tony’s legs gave out and he slumped back into a nearby chair, one hand over his heart, the other clutched tight around the monitor. “J-- what-- what--”

He was panting, sweating, hardly able to take a breath without his chest seizing, the black lines at the reactor and his neck trailing down his arms and almost to his fingers now. His vision went blurry if he stared for more than a few minutes, he was constantly thirsty and damn near dehydrated and the little bit of food he’d managed the last few nights had ended with him stumbling back to the bathroom and vomiting until stars burst behind his temples.

He was so scared.

“J--”

“Sir, Sergeant Barnes is on his way up the drive.”

“...what?”

“A distinctly non civilian air craft dropped him off in the street and he is up the steps and nearly at the door. Should I allow him in?”

“Please…” Tony’s head lolled back as he tried to breathe. “J, please--”

“Tony?” A shout from upstairs and pounding footsteps as the soldier ran down the stairs to the lab. “Tony? Sweet thing?”

“Thank god.” Tony managed only a glimpse of pale blue eyes and silver fingers before his vision went black. “James--”

“Tony!”

...The blood monitor slipped out of Tony’s hand and fell to floor flashing a steady ninety-one percent.

...91% and when James reached for Tony, the beautiful brunette was too cold, too still, barely breathing.

...“Tony?”

91%

**************

Chapter Notes:

Tony sits still for 2 mins and 4 seconds because the IM2 run time is 2 hours, 4 mins.

I didn’t want to skip the strawberry part of the movie, but I like my version better. THIS is Pepper’s ring and honestly, I totally want one.

I grew up watching WWF/WWE and I will probably watch it till the day I die.

We made a purposeful decision to avoid any CACW related angst in this fic. The idea that who James/Bucky IS will always be more important than who he was, what was done to him/what they made him do and I think everyone deserves to be seen as a person first and foremost instead of their list of past mistakes and/or trauma.

That being said, 91% is a reference to 1991, the year the MCU WS ruined Tony’s life but in this verse, the number where James comes to his rescue.

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

*************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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madtype · 3 years

Text

Cabaret Club Czar Training - YUKI (Part 3)

in this installment of yuki’s hostess training, she and majima have a conversation about sushi, self-help books, and stew...

highlights: - majima getting a little too sincere and kind for yuki’s comfort - yuki feeling concerned over majima’s unbalanced diet - both of them getting a little more comfortable with each other! very sweet

full transcript under the cut!

---

MAJIMA: Okay, ready for some training?

YUKI: Yes, please!

M: Hey, Yuki-chan. Those battle butterflies finally gone?

Y: Well, it is just you after all, Majima-san.

M: Oh, is that some sass I detect?

M: Alright, let's do this. I'm the customer, you're the hostess. Ready?

Y: Yeah! Of course!

Y: Hello, I'm Yuki! Are you welcome here today?

M: ...We still got a long way to go.

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

M: Let's see.

Y: Yes.

M: Kinda cold today, huh?

Y: Y-Yes. That's right. It is cold.

M: ......

Y: ...... (heh...heh)

M: Yuki-chan, I can tell you've been gettin' better with the customers lately, but you're still havin' trouble keepin' conversations rollin'.

Y: I-I'm sorry.

Y: I know I have to say something, but I have no idea what I should talk about.

M: You can talk about anything, even somethin' small. The weather, current events... Keep it casual.

M: Hell, you could even throw out something you've been tryin' to get off your chest.

Y: I-I see. Would that really be casual, though?

M: Anyway. So today, let's try puttin' the burden of conversation on you, Yuki-chan.

M: The best trick to startin' a conversation is to just ask a question. Think of me as a guest, and fire away. Anything.

Y; O-Okay. I understand.

Y: Uh, umm... Majima-san, wh-what kind of sushi do you like?

> I like tamago.

M: I'm all about the tamago.

Y: Haha, Majima-san, your taste in sushi is so childish. You should at least try to pick a fish!

M: Quiet, you. Sushi joints are made and broken by the eggs they serve. Tamago is the key!

Y: Oh, I hear that a lot. Is that true, though?

M: Based on my experience, pretty much, yeah.

Y: Really? I'll check next time I'm out for sushi.

M: Yeah, you do that. But check this out, Yuki-chan. Ya brought a question outta left field, but the conversation went fine, didn't it?

Y: Huh?

M: You ask a question, the other person answers. Easy, yeah?

M: If you're havin' trouble carryin' the conversation, just ask the customer a question and let 'em ramble. It'll turn into a conversation lickety split.

Y: I see... That's a pretty good conversation technique. Memo noted.

> That's too random...

M: Well, that's a little outta left field, ain't it? Customer's gonna wonder if he's in a club or a diner.

Y: Y-You're right.

M: If you feel like talkin' sushi, ya could lead with a question more like, “Have ya eaten already?” It kinda sounds unnatural otherwise, y'know?

Y: Y-Yes... You're right. Oh, I'm terrible at this.

M: (Damn, she took that one hard. Maybe I shoulda just answered the question...)

M: Anyway, all ya gotta do is pay attention to the flow of the conversation and ask questions. That way, it'll flower naturally.

Y: Okay... I'll try harder.

> I like engawa.

M: I'm an engawa guy.

Y: Wow, Majima-san! You like engawa too? What a coincidence! That's my number one favorite!

M: No kidding? You got quite the discriminatin' palate for a young lady, Yuki.

Y: When I was little, I used to eat sushi with my grandpa all the time.

M: You and yer gramps were makin' sushi runs? Is your family loaded or somethin'?

Y: Actually, I heard that a mountain behind my grandparents' house was part of their property.

M: What!? You some kinda lost mountain princess, Yuki-chan!?

Y: Not at all! Nowadays I'm living completely on my own. I can barely afford a cucumber roll.

M: Ah. See how that works? Your question was outta left field, but it kicked off a whole conversation. And I got to know ya a little better in the process.

Y: Huh?

M: You ask a question, the other person answers. Easy, right?

M: If you're havin' problems carrying on a conversation, ask your customer a question and let 'em talk. That'll turn into a conversation pronto.

Y: Oh, I see. There's a technique to conversations. That's really good to know.

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

Y: Let's see... Majima-san, does your wife ever get mad at you because you're in this line of work?

M: Nah, no wife to get mad at me in the first place. I live alone, as a free man.

Y: Really...? I can't imagine how a single guy lives by himself. Majima-san, do you cook at all?

M: Do I look like a chef? I just do whatever.

Y: But, if you're always eating out or eating junk food, you won't have a balanced diet. Would you like me to make you some meat and potatoes stew or something?

> I can make that.

M: You sayin' you cook, Yuki-chan? I don't know, I bet I could do a better job myself...

Y: H-How dare you! I've been practicing really hard to make meat and potatoes stew! That's the only thing I cook!

M: Wait, why do ya only have one dish in yer arsenal?

Y: Because it was in a how-too book for relationships! It said, “The way to a man's heart is through his stomach with meat and potatoes stew!”

M: You actually read books like that, Yuki-chan?

Y: Oooh! Please don't say a word to anyone that I'm reading a self-help book!

M: My lips are sealed.

> That'd be great.

M: Yeah, that sounds tasty. Lookin' forward to it.

Y: O-Okay! Wow, I guess it was true. Men really do have a weakness for meat and potatoes!

M: Say what? You read that in a book or somethin'?

Y: Yes! A relationships how-too book. It said, “Win your man's heart via his stomach with meat and potatoes!”

M: Wait, you actually read books like that, Yuki-chan?

Y: Ahhh! Please don't say a word to anyone that I'm reading a self-help book!

M: My lips are sealed.

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

M: I can tell you're gettin' better at this talking thing. You're makin' good progress, Yuki-chan.

Y: Y-You really think so? But, I think it's only because you're you, Majima-san...

M: Whaddaya mean?

Y: Well, it's different when I talk to someone I'm familiar with versus meeting a customer I don't really know.

M: I guess that's true.

> I'll request you then.

M: Then I'll request you as a customer, Yuki-chan.

Y: Huh? What do you mean?

M: Ya carry a conversation just fine when it's me, right? Alls I gotta do then is come in here and request you over and over.

Y: No, I understand that part... But it still doesn't make any sense.

Y: Let me get this straight. Majima-san, you spend your money at this club and then the profits go back to you. Erm... That would be pointless... right?*

M: Hey, I was bein' sarcastic! Ya gotta learn to tell when someone's jokin'.

Y: Oh, you were joking. O-Of course! I'm sorry.

Y: But if you really were my customer all the time, Majima-san, I think I'd enjoy that. Make sure to order a lot of expensive drinks, okay?

M: Heh. Now we're talking. That sounded like a hostess who knows her jam.

> Give it some time.

M: You'll get it down sooner or later. Ya just need a little more experience.

Y: You think so? Experience... I've been longer than any of the other hostesses, though...

M: Oh... Well, everyone gains experience at different speeds! You're just more turtle than hare, is all.

Y: Majima-san... You're not helping me feel better here.

> Imagine they're me.

M: Just think of all the customers as me.

Y: All my customers as you, Majima-san? Hehehe... Hahaha!

M: What's so funny?

Y: I-I'm sorry, I imagined that all of our seats were filled with you, Majima-san. I couldn't help it. Hahaha.

M: You know what I meant! It wasn't a literal suggestion.

Y: Oh, I know. But, thank you. If I try that, I think I will have an easier time handling the customers.

M: That right? Good, good.

Y: A room full of Majima-san customers... Hehehe, I bet that would be a pain!

M: Eh? You say somethin'?

Y: O-Oh, no. Nothing!

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

M: Hey, look at the time.

M: Any last questions ya wanna ask me? Forget about the training for a sec. Anything goes.

Y: Hm, let's see. Um, well... Majima-san, what do you think about me?

M: Huh? Whaddya mean?

Y: As an employee of the club... Well, what do you think of me?

> You're cute.

M: Well, I think you're cute.

Y: What? Oh, no, no, that's what I mean. What I meant to ask is, do you think I'm a good employee?

M: Oooh, right, right! Yeah, sure, I can tell that you're really workin' hard.

Y: What kind of response was that? Are you being serious?

M: Uh, 'course I am. I just had to gather my thoughts there.

Y: Huh? You're weird, Majima-san.

> You're workin' hard.

M: You're workin' hard.

Y: You think so? We've gotten some new girls here lately, and I feel like they're working a lot harder than me.

M: Comparin' yourself to others is a losin' proposition. What's important is how hard yer tryin' to be better.

M: Besides, ya ain't great at talking to guys, yet here you are, toughin' it out to overcome your weakness. That's somethin' to be proud of, if ya ask me.

Y: Majima-san... Th-Thank you.

Y: But, Majima-san, it feels really weird when you get all serious and sincere like that. Like, almost creepy.

M: Whaddya mean, creepy!?

Y: Ahaha. But, I'm happy. Really. I'll work much, much harder!

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M: Okay, I think that'll do it.

Y: Th-Thank you for the lesson.

M: Sure thing. Good job.

*Note: Despite localization as “erm,” Yuki actually says “hmm?” and at the end of her sentence says, “hmmm?” Thought it was a cute detail that was worth noting.

#cabaret club czar #yakuza 0 #yuki #goro majima #club sunshine

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

Text

Hitmen AU! | Head Canons | 19+ [Haikyuu!!]

𝕹𝖊𝖐𝖔𝖒𝖆 [PART i] [PART ii] [PART iii]

Here’s the second team up~! Once all the schools have been set, deffo expect lots of one-shots, drabbles, etc uwu

I hope you guys enjoy these ones~!

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

A group that has been established for quite a while and has a rather solid idea of what they’re doing and capable of

Are natural rivals with Karasuno in terms of business standards, but frequently does team ups in larger schemed assignments

Are one of the best at disposing the extra unnecessary bodies that someone ends up accidentally killing (Lev and his misfires is2g)

T̷e̷t̷s̷u̷r̷o̷ ̷K̷u̷r̷o̷o̷

Big Boss man of the squad

A clever and slippery bastard that Daichi deadass hates but both are polite to one another to keep ‘peaceful’ tensions between their groups

Can literally get away with anything and provoke anything to fall exactly as he wants or how he needs it to play out for his assignments or missions

likes to be out on the field rather than cooped up in the office

Is one of the best interrogators for scraping out information from victims

loves to mess around with the rookies and any other fresh bloods that roam the streets to complete missions

is known to be the panther of the streets and has a list of people who shit their pants when they see him

“Oya oya oya~? What do we have here?” A deep chuckle came from the male as he leaned against the cold brick wall. The sight before him bringing nothing but utter amusement in his eyes as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. Lighting the stick before taking a long drag from the addictive nicotine.

“If I remember correctly, you were supposed to pay us the minimum fee for helping you ‘take care’ of some left over trash. It’s been quite sometime since then. Hasn’t it?” He taunted as he leisurely pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages for dramatic effect as he took another drag from the cigarette dangling loosely from his parted lips. His golden eyes glowing dangerously as his companion couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh.

Glancing at him, the male couldn’t help but put the notebook away as he put his hands up.

“Alright, alright. I’ll cut the shenanigans.”

A crunch and a pained scream was heard before it was quickly muffled as the male tutted softly.

“Look, I’m being a pretty good guy here! I’m gonna cut ya a deal alright? But before I get to that...I wanna release some pent up stress since of course, you’re not the only one who’s late on payments~.”

Has rooster hair 25/8, he’s tried to tame it but gave up after the first day

has a whole sleeve of a panther on his right arm and enjoys wearing formfitting suits

is heavily built and toned from his adventures on the field

has a couple of piercings too

with his s/o he’s playful and mischievous

loves to pull pranks with his s/o or on his s/o

a cocky and flirtatious boi but can get stumped and flustered when his s/o sets him straight or combats with a wicked prank against him

N̴o̴b̴u̴y̴u̴k̴i̴ ̴K̴a̴i̴

Literal Caretaker for the two oldest

bless him oml we all need a man like this who’ll keep their friends from doing the dumbest shit

is the mediator in the group

keeps the members and more rambunctious members from doing anything out of hand that could risk them from getting their information

is the one who gathers and collects information from targets

besides getting assignments via their brain, he sets out to collect more personal details and weaknesses that’ll help the assignments go by smoothly without any problems

Smiling at the target, the male calmly chatted away on their daily life. The comings and goings of how their lives played out as well as any exciting or memorable events coming up. For him, he had been on his information gathering mission for at least a month now. Having been away from home base had him only slightly worried for what his more...chaotic friends would do in his absence, but he pushed that aside as he took mental note of how the target’s family was going through a hard time.

With surprising ease, he comforted the male and offered sound advice as well as an ear to listen.

“I understand you’re going through turmoil by now, but if I recall correctly, didn’t you mention a rather helpful investment that’ll solve your problems?” He inquired, feeding into the target’s emotions as the person before him merely nodded before explaining how the rather illegal investment was going to help change his and his family’s lives for the better.

A small smile formed on his lips as he let the information sink in. Hook, Line, and Sinker.

“I see, I’m glad it’ll work out! I promise not to mention this to anyone, just remember to keep me in your memories in case you need a friend to talk to.”

Tanned skin and buzzed black hair he enjoys the simplicity of not having to worry much about appearance

has a lip piercing and a whole back tattoo

broad shoulders and toned yis yis

has a couple of scars from scuffles and battles when he first began this life with Kuroo and Yaku

he’s very honest and thoughtful of his s/o

likes to talk and learn all about s/o

wants to be as open as he can with them without scaring them

knows exactly how to calm s/o down or rile them up if need be *wink wink*

M̷o̷r̷i̷s̷u̷k̷e̷ ̷Y̷a̷k̷u̷

One of the best assassins

is quick to analyze the situation and do what is needed to finish the mission with ease

ends up in squabbles with Kuroo every other day

is very skilled with knives and other simple yet silent methods of getting rid of targets

once stumbled upon Karasuno’s inventor and was shocked at the utter chaos he caused

will always avoid the vicinity where he hears a “ROLINGUUUUUU THUN..DAAAAAAHHH”

gives the harsh love to the rookies (specifically Lev) and trains the shit outta them all

is always ready to swoop in as back up in case one of the rookies mess up

“...seriously?” A heavy sigh came from the figure in question as he stood from his spot on the ceiling.

“They did try their best Yaku-san...” Was the response from the in ear piece before a jumble of apologies cut through the intercom. Dialing the sound down, the light brown haired male made his quick descent down the stairs. His eyes skimming across the street for the injured, yet escaping target.

Leave it to one of the most inexperienced rookies to not only not properly shot a hindering area, but to let them escape. He was sure he was going to make the new kid do drills all night until his eyes fell out of his head from the amount of precision aiming he’d do.

“Target sighted. Engaging.” Was the quick reply as hazel eyes locked onto the bloodied target. Not completely incapacitated, but injured enough to weasel out some information before getting rid of the body.

With practiced ease, he swooped in; landing gracefully on the floor as he pulled out a dagger. Then, without a second wasted, he pounced onto the figure, easily knocking them down and pressing his heel deeply into the messy knife wound on the man’s abdomen.

“I have to apologize on behalf of my stupid subordinate, but don’t worry. I’ll properly deal with you.”

Is a smol bb, and gets angry if it’s pointed out

once kicked Kuroo so hard that both him and Kuroo were put in a get along shirt by Kai

usually has lightly brushed light brown hair, no worries for bed head

has a multitude of piercings on his ears and one tattoo on his left shoulder blade

like Kai and Kuroo, his body is littered in scars and bruises from spars and missions

He’s unsurprisingly, very gentle and doting on his s/o

goes into a whole emo-mode when s/o points out his height

expects lots of affection for pointing out his flaw

will listen to s/o’s concerns and take heed whenever he goes to work

always keeps s/o out of Kuroo’s sights

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hitmen au #haikuu!!#nekoma #nekoma x reader #tetsuro kuroo x reader #nobuyuki kai x reader #morisuke yaku x reader #kuroo x reader #kai x reader #yaku x reader #tetsuro x reader #nobuyuki x reader #morisuke x reader #tetsuro kuroo #nobuyuki kai #morisuke yaku

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saberdeity · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞 ⇾ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

pairings ⇾ bucky barnes x genderneutral reader

summary ⇾ takes place during infinity war, reader has powers but doesn't understand the full extent, they stay in Wakanda with Bucky where a relationship blossoms

warnings ⇾ mentions of violence, battles, SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR.

a/n ⇾ this is the first part of a 2 part series! Thank you for requesting the idea anon and I really hope you don’t mind that I’ve written this in two parts! I really hope you like it 💗

*not my gif, full credit goes to the owner*

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Thanos, the name everyone dreaded to hear after the pain and sadness he caused when wiping out half the universe. He craved destruction, he thought genocide was a small price to pay for civilisation. He thought he was the world’s saviour, the titan who could restore peace and harmony to the universe but in reality he was doing the exact opposite. Instead he caused pain and suffering, making things worse than they already were.

Being a part of the Avengers wasn’t so easy, especially when they decided to have one of the biggest fights where you were forced to choose between your two best friends.

You fought with Steve, no matter what happened you knew Bucky didn’t do what the media were saying he did, Steve was sure of it. You fought with him, becoming a fugitive and using every power you could to help him. That’s how you met Bucky.

After the events of the Sokovia Accords and the fight between Tony and Steve, you were a fugitive, you couldn’t return home nor could you stay anywhere else so you went with Steve and Bucky to Wakanda.

Wakanda was beautiful. The city was beaming with sound and colour, the people happy and friendly around you. King Tchala was more than welcoming, he quickly became a friend even though he fought against you. He knew he needed to make up for the mistake he made, blaming Bucky for his father’s death and he offered him every ounce of help he could which all of you were grateful for.

Soon, Steve left and it was just you and Bucky, well just you for a while. Bucky went back into Cryofreeze, he couldn’t trust his own mind, he thought it would be safer for him and everyone else until Shuri found a way to either calm the triggers of Hydra or take them away completely. It was pretty lonely for a while but you became pretty close with Shuri, helping her in any way possible to figure out how to get the trigger words out of Bucky’s tormented mind.

When Bucky came out of Cryo things were still pretty hard for him but you were there every step of the way to help him through it. You were there for every nightmare, every bad day, every good day and to keep him company. You’d always had a connection with Bucky, you’d always gotten on like a house on fire and throughout this time it only strengthened the connection between the two of you. When he first asked you out you were shocked but you struggled to hide the excitement you felt when he did. He took you on a few dates, Tchala helped him to organise little dinners and long walks around the most beautiful parts of Wakanda: things were amazing. Bucky asked you to be his girlfriend and there was no way on any universe you were going to say no, you were falling head over heels for him and there was nothing that could stop you.

Bucky was doing good, he spent most days with you in the little mud hut in a little place not fair from the main city within Wakanda and it was beautiful. You spent every day helping him with memories and chores around the place, making sure the goats were fed and things were tidy. It was peaceful and calm, the perfect place to be.

You and Bucky both knew something bad was coming when Tchala came down to the hut himself with a shiny, new, powerful arm for Bucky. You both got ready for the battle ahead, Tchala explained the situation, how Thanos wanted to destroy half the universe after he could his hands on all six infinity stones. Your job was to not let that happen.

You hoped to Steve again in better circumstances so Bucky could tell him how far he’s come and the progress that he’s fought so hard to make but there wasn’t anytime. Thanos’ armies were on their way and approaching fast. The lead up to battle was always the worst, Shuri was sure she could take the stone out of vision without killing him but she was going to need a lot of time and we didn’t know how much time we could give her.

When you stood next to Bucky looking out at the unsettling amount of battleships and armies ready to plague the lands of Wakanda with blood and death; you couldn’t help but let the anxiety rise within you. Your heart began to race and your palms began to sweat at the thought of death. You weren’t afraid to die personally but all your friends, the love of your life and the people you trust the most were going into this battle which created the fear of experiencing loss and grief. You turned to Bucky, studying his features for a little while, the way his hair fell just above his shoulders, how his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked straight ahead and the way his eyes sparkled a bright blue against the gazing sun. You took everything in and did your best to burn it into your memory so that you wouldn’t ever forget him if either you died or if the worse happened to him.

“Be careful” He whispered to you, only just about loud enough for you to hear as you turned your head to smile at him.

“You too baby” You smile in return, quickly both of your focusses shifting back onto the fight ahead.

Everyone prepared for battle, our faces coldy staring at the killing machines being held back by the bright blue ray shield surrounding the whole country whilst we assumed our positions ready to face the armies of Thanos. When Tchala gave the instruction to open the shield on his command you pushed any anxieties or bad thoughts to the back of your mind, summoning your powers as everyone began running towards where the opening of the shield will be.

You ran as fast as your legs would take you easily sprinting past the warriors of wakanda as Tchala instructed the commanders to open the section 17 of the ray shield. The monsters came flooding in, Steve and Tchala jumping quite literally into battle as you landed the first blow to your target, pulling the animal apart with your powers before moving onto the next. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you were largely outnumbered, the animals bred for a single purpose outnumbering you by the thousands. The monsters came flying at you multiple at a time as you did your best to fight them off using a mixture of your powers and hand to hand combat Bucky and Steve had taught you.

The monsters numbers only kept increasing, it seemed like you took one down another three followed, You did everything you could but it was starting to become a little overwhelming, not only just for you but for everyone else on the battlefield also. There were simply too many enemies replacing the ones already taken down.

“We can’t hold them much longer” You said over COMS before being taken down by a group of them. You kicked, punched, slashed and used your powers to push them off you but more joined and it was no use. Until, an axe came flying through the air, lightning currents following in pursuit of it as the enemies were killed and no longer surrounded you. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, letting out a stiffened groan as you looked to the rainbow bifrost burning a hole into the surface soon revealing a new, handsome looking Thor with what looked like a raccoon on his back and a tree stood just beside him. You smiled widely, reinforcements had arrived and things were looking up.

“You guys are so screwed now!” Banner shouted excitedly from the hulk buster suit. You chuckled to yourself briefly distracted from the fight but a cry from one of the monsters hurtling towards you brought you back into reality.

You returned to fighting doing everything you could to take down as many as the blood hungry animals that came to you. It was exhausting, battle always was. You occasionally looked over Bucky’s way making sure he was okay, little did you know he was doing the same thing for you.

You scanned the battle field looking for anyone who could potentially need your help whilst continuing to fight off the ones you could. You spotted Nat and Okeye entering the path of a Thresher. You panicked beginning to run in their direction to stop the Thresher from shredding them when Wanda flew down from the tower, landing directly in front of them, eyes glowing a bright red as the red strings of power flow from her hands to stop the machine dead in its tracks; destroying it in the process.

“Why was she up there all this time?” Okoye asks as you chuckle softly almost instantly being attacked again.

You moved on, now fighting side by side with Bucky and taking down all the enemies that threatened to get near him. Vision was now unguarded and shuri was exposed meaning that there was no line of defence left for the stone.

“Guys we’ve got a vision situation here” Sam says throw COMS doing his best to get to vision but the enemies were still flowing through the hole in the protective shield.

“Somebody get to vision!” Steve shouts tirelessly through COMS.

You sprint through the battlefield, punching, kicking and taking everything down in your way preventing you from getting to vision and to the stone. Bruce had already gotten there in the hopes to stop the enemy and you only could run as fast as your legs would take you.

Bruce had been side tracked meaning Vision was still alone with Corvus Glaive, vision was weak from the interfacing Shuri had been attempting leaving him even more vulnerable. You arrived with Vision, tackling Corvus to the ground and throwing him away from the both of you as you stood back up.

“Get outta here” You say waving your hand for him to go before Corvus begins to attack you. You blocked his staff with your arms, using all the strength you had to push back, you land a few good blows, earning him a large cut to his cheek. Steve joins as you both begin to fight him, using the gaps in one anothers fight patterns to defend yourselves. You were thrown against a tree, groaning in pain when the hard, rough exterior of the tree scraped down your back, winding you as Steve struggled also. He did all he could but it wasn’t going to be enough, you tried our best to push yourself up in time but Vision had beaten you to the saviour role, pushing his own blade through Corvus’ chest killing him instantly. You let out a sigh of relief, finally managing to push yourself up as you walked over to the two of them.

“I thought she told you to go” Steve says, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

“We don’t trade lives Captain” Vision replies looking between the two of you as you nodded slightly.

Shortly after the others joined you. Bucky instantly made his way over to you to check you over, making sure you were okay. You reassured him you were fine, smiling softly to him.

“He’s here” Vision announces as your heart drops and anxiety increases.

“Everyone on my position, we have incoming.” Steve states through COMS.

A dust like cloud filled with blue, black and purple colours appears just above the ground before Thanos steps through.

“Cap that’s him” Bruce confirms

“Eyes up, stay sharp.” Steve says, getting ready with his shield to fight even with the little odds stacked against us.

Bruce reached Thanos first, jumping at him but Thanos uses the space stone to his advantage forcing Bruce to be submerged in the stone wall of the cliff behind him. Before Steve can even reach Thanos he is thrown aside with ease. Tchala is next, he leaps into the air high with his claws extended ready to land a blow but Thanos catches him by his throat, punching him into the ground violently. Sam also tries but once again Thanos uses another stone to stop him from coming anywhere near him to injure him, sending him pummeling to the ground.

Vision and Wanda needed time to destroy the stone, you were planning on doing everything you could to buy them some time. You lunged at Thanos, landing a few blows to chest and face as you slipped through his legs, attacking his back at the point with knives that did very little but it was giving Wanda enough time to destroy the stone. You went to jump at him again, unfortunately you were caught within range of a stone meaning you were flung away from him and to the ground.

Rhodey began open firing at Thanos but it was of no use, the iron suit crushed around as he hit the ground with a harsh thud. Bucky then tries his luck, firing his gun at every possible spot but was flung away but yet another stone. Okoye and Nat try also but both were sent flying away from him. Vines of bark wrap around his purple limbs holding him down for a few seconds before the vines from Groot are crushed and Thanos is once again free.

Wanda had almost finished destroying the stone, the hurt in her cries evident as she continues to destroy the one she loves. Thanos was dangerously close to her, she used every ounce of power to hold him back and continue to destroy the stone. The yellow stone in Vision's mind begins to crack. Visions face overcome with an expression of peace as the yellow crystal fragments completely. A pulse of yellow energy explodes from him, shuddering the trees around you for many meters.

“I understand my child, better than anyone” Thanos speaks to Wanda

“You could never” Wanda snarls.

“Today I lost more than you can know. But now is no time to mourn. Now is not time at all” Thanos says reaching forward, he clenches the gauntlet, using the emerald green time stone. The yellow energy starts to appear in reverse, time reversing as an alive Vision comes back.

“No!” Wanda shouts as she lunges for Vision but is thrown away with no effort at all.

Thanos lifts Vision by his throat, no remorse or guilt plastered on his face and he digs the fingers of his right hand around the stone, digging the stone from his head. The stone is released from Visions mind, his body goes limp and colourless. Thanos tosses him aside like he was a piece of litter. He raises his gauntlet placing the stone in the last empty spot. The surge of energy is extremely powerful, his torso is wreathed with iridescent static as a cry leaves his throat trying to contain the power he was given.

Thanos drops to one knee trying to maintain control of the power of the infinity stones when Thor lands in front of him burying his ake deep into his chest.

“I told you, You’d die for that” Thor snarls, nothing but anger and hate laced through his voice.

Thor takes hold of Thanos’ head, burying stormbreaker even further into his chest, staring angrily into his eyes as Thanos lets out a cry of pain.

“You should have.. You…. You should have gone for the head” Thanos says, suddenly regaining strength as he raises the gauntlet once, this time snapping his fingers.

“NO!” Thor shouts in despair.

“What’d you do? WHAT”D YOU DO?” Thor says angrily to Thanos. He merely takes no notice of him, as he uses the Space Stone, teleporting away, leaving the stormbreaker behind on the dusty wakandan ground.

“Where’d he go? Thor… where’d he go” Stve says, trembling slightly as he clings to his left side.

“Y/n? Steve?” Your head snaps towards Bucky, his voice full of confusion and panic as he stumbles over, dropping his gun. He turns to dust, his body no longer there leaving nothing but a pile of ash on the floor. You run over, collapsing onto the floor taking a pile of the ash into your hand as it begins to evaporate disbelievingly.

“No, this cannot be happening, he can’t be gone.. Please no come back Bucky please” You whisper searching through the ash for something, hope maybe but there was none to be found. He was gone.

Many others around you begin to fall to dust, disappearing into the abyss as you all watch in disbelief. Steve, Thor, Rhodey, Nat, Bruce, Rocket and you were the only ones left standing. Steve moves to Visions, lifeless body collapsing next to him. You stayed where Bucky once was, your heart aching in your chest as tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe nor did you want to believe he was gone.

“What is this? What the hell is happening?” Rhodey asks just as confused as everyone else.

“Oh god!” Was all Steve managed to say as he breathlessly sat with his hand on Vision's corpse.

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

Taglist:

@devilsbaby-doll

@katexrichardson

@babymango-writes

#bucky barnes #the avengers #marvel #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x reader #infinity war

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