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late-to-the-party-81 · 8 months

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You bring me closer to God - Ch3

AN: Apologies (sorry, not sorry) that part two was mainly literary edging, but I hope you enjoyed the look inside Joaquin’s mind. Time for the part you’ve all been waiting for. Thank you to @unlifeira for the Spanish assistance.

For the Week 12 Prompt “Who’s my…?” I went with all three - Good boy, Perfect fuckhole and Little Slut. Because, why not?

Beta’d by @hannahshattuck

Master list| Hot Bucky Summer Master list | Chapter 2

Summary: Bucky takes out his frustrations, and Joaquín is a-okay with that plan.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Joaquín Torres

Word Count: 2.8k

CW: Mean Dom Top Bucky, Enthusiastic Sub Bottom Joaquín, Pre-established ‘Situationship’, Safe word discussion, Degradation, Sub Space, Possessive Bucky, Explicit Sexual content (Spanking, Ass-eating, Rough anal fingering, Spit as lube, Lube as lube, Edging, Anal Sex) Aftercare, Emotionally Constipated Bucky, Idiot in love (Bucky’s the idiot - Joaquín owns his feelings)

Bucky didn’t question himself as he pulled a t-shirt and sweatpants on, over his damp skin. He didn’t look at his motives as he strode down the corridor towards Joaquin’s room and overrode the security system to gain entry. And he didn’t stop to think about why he was feeling the way he was when practically ambushed his young lover as he came out of the bathroom, pinning against the wall and kissing the shit outta him.

With Joaquín lying on the bed, eyes wide as he processed what had happened to him in the last 45 seconds, Bucky tore the white towel off him, as though its mere presence was offensive. Which it was. It was separating Joaquín from him.

“I need you baby boy. I’m still mad at you, but, fuck, I need you. Gimme your colour, yeah? “Cause I’ve got plans for you, and I need to know you’re with me.”

Bucky wasn’t even sure how he managed to speak. He was so desperate he wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to halt at just groping Joaquín, when all he wanted to do was fully possess him. But he had to be sure, be certain that his lover wanted this, wanted him. So he asked, making his need evident, without any attempt to disguise it, and he was rewarded a tortuous few seconds later when Joaquín responded.

“Green, Bucky. Green. Oh, god! Please, please, please.”

The dam burst.

Bucky smashed his mouth back on Joaquín’s as he awkwardly shucked his sweatpants, and then ripped the t-shirt from his body, unwilling to break their kiss for something so inconsequential. The only items left on them were their own dog tags. Bucky’s hands roamed, re-familiarising themselves with the planes of Quín’s body. Every dip, every ridge. It was all Bucky’s to explore. To touch. To own.

With an economy of movement that surprised even himself, Bucky pinned Joaquin’s wrists above his head with his right hand, making the young man arch beneath his touch. The feel of their cocks rubbing together was intoxicating, but Bucky needed to keep his head. He pulled his mouth away from Joaquín’s sinful red lips and proceeded to nip and suckle at his jaw and neck, drawing more and more beautiful sounds from him.

With his left hand he teased Joaquín’s left nipple, the nut-brown peak immediately going hard. He gave it a small pinch then tugged, drawing even more sounds from the man under him. Joaquín’s little tits were so sensitive and playing with them made him the most desperate type of mess. Bucky’s favourite.

He scraped his teeth down Quín’s throat, and then sucked hickey onto his collarbone. He didn’t normally leave marks that high up, preferring to keep them where they could be hidden but he didn’t want to think about that decision too deeply.

His lover squirmed beneath him, and when Bucky closed his mouth over the poor, tortured nipple he had to use his left hand to hold down Joaquín’s hip. Bucky bucked his hips, a teasing motion which made their cocks, both weeping copiously, brush against each other.

“Bucky! Please! ¡Dios!”

Fuck. He loved it when Quín begged, and he had no intention of giving him what he was asking for, not yet. He needed to wait for him to be so desperate, so down in it, that he couldn’t speak.

“You don’t get to plead, baby. You get exactly what I decide to give you. No more, no less. You lost your right to get what you want when you made that stupid decision today.”

He abruptly pulled back and flipped Joaquín onto his front. His right hand continued to push his wrists into the mattress, and with his left he pulled Quín’s hips up, so his plump, but muscular, ass was right there.

Smack!

He laid out a spank on the quivering flesh, and the squeal Joaquín let out went straight to Bucky’s dick, along with the way the younger man buried his head into the covers.

“Do you know how worried I was?”

Smack! A spank to the other side.

“You can’t do that.”

Smack! Smack! One on each cheek, harder than the first two.

“And, God help me, if this is the only way to get it through to your stubborn ass…”

Bucky set up a rhythm, alternating between left and right and different spots on Quín’s ass and upper thighs. Every so often the tips of his fingers caught his ball sack, and the wail was like a balm to Bucky’s soul. Eventually though, when all the blood had rushed to Joaquín’s abused skin, the younger man’s loud squeaks had diminished to quieter, snotty sniffles. Bucky wasn’t finished with him though, not by a long shot.

He let go of Quín’s wrists, and dragged his dog tags over his head. He pressed the slips of skin warmed metal into his lover's hands as his other hand rubbed soothingly over his heated ass.

“It gets too much, you drop those. I’ll hear it.” The head of jet black hair nodded understanding into the rumpled sheets. Bucky grinned, then gently tapped Joaquín’s inner thighs, making him spread his knees, and therefore his ass, wider. Bucky could see Joaquín’s legs trembling with anticipation, and couldn’t help but tease him some more.

Holding Joaquín’s flushed ass cheeks open with his thumbs he spent a moment just observing the sweetest little hole he’d ever seen. It too was twitching. Waiting. Bucky blew a stream of air over the sensitive skin, watching it pucker and listening to the pathetic, needy whine that emerged from his lover’s mouth. He couldn’t hold back a grin or himself from such a delectable treat any longer, either.

The first swipe of his tongue ran all the way up Quín’s crack, from taint to the top of his hole.

Fuck, his boy tasted good.

He did it again, before stabbing his tongue right at the little furled rose bud. He’d become a being of greed, slaking his appetites, almost uncaring of the man he devoured in his lusts. Joaquín shook and whined beneath him, but Bucky continued to lap at the perfect ring of muscle, kissing and licking and sucking. He nipped at the patches of skin that rarely saw daylight, the only parts of Quín that hadn’t been inflamed by his hand. As Bucky lost himself in the perfection of Joaquín’s ass he rubbed his hands over all the parts of the young man as he could reach, all except for his cock. It was torture for both of them.

It was a sweet torture however, as when he finally indulged himself - and he would, soon - it would make it all the more satisfying. But he kept up with what he was doing until Joaquín’s legs were shaking from the effort of keeping his ass in the air, and Bucky was happy with how lax and open his hole had become.

He brought himself back up, his chest plastered to Joaquín’s back and his left hand on the back of his neck.

“You still with me, baby boy?”

There was an almost intelligible, garbled response from the other man

That just wouldn’t do.

Almost cruelly, he pressed two fingers into his slightly slackened asshole, knowing it would burn with only his spit as lube at this stage. His baby’s lithe body jolted under him, and the most plaintive wail filled the air.

“I said, are you still with me?”

“¡Sí! Sí, estoy contigo. ¡Siempre estoy contigo!”

“Good, because I need you paying attention. I need you to know that you’re not allowed to put yourself in danger, because this…” he crooked his fingers inside the tightness of Quín’s ass, “... is not yours to risk. It’s mine. Mine to kiss. Mine to touch. Mine to use. The same as that mouth, and that little cock of yours. You’re my little fuck toy, baby boy. My little slut.”

Not wanting to let go of Joaquín just yet, Bucky leant back and let a glob of spit leave his lips to land on where his fingers were stretching out that delectable ring of muscle. He started to slowly thrust his fingers in and out, the tips not quite brushing over Quín’s prostate, and keeping the movements just on the wrong side of comfortable, at least for now. He needed Joaquín to feel it.

“Do you think you can remember that? Remember what you are and who you belong to?”

He scissored his fingers apart, stretching Joaquín’s ring wide, and spat directly into it. He groaned as he watched some trickle down the outside, but he still managed to hear his baby’s semi-garbled response in Spanish, agreeing with everything he’d said.

“¡Soy tuyo! Tu juguete. Tu puto. Te necesito. ¡Dios!”

Bucky hoped that Joaquín meant it, and wasn’t just agreeing for the sake of it, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed more and he knew that Joaquín needed more too.

Roughly, he pulled his fingers from his lover, leaning over and grabbing the bottle of lube from the top drawer of the bedside table. He briefly noted how empty it was getting and smiled to himself about how much they’d gone through recently. He flipped up the cap with his thumb and poured a liberal amount over his boy’s hole, enjoying the shiver that ran through his lithe body. Tossing the bottle next to them, he trailed his first three fingers through the excess, before sliding his index finger easily inside.

Joaquín moaned beneath him, the sensation now much more pleasurable. A few pumps and he added his middle finger. Joaquín’s body was slack beneath him, his little noises letting Bucky know that he was now heading to that fuzzy headspace that only Bucky could take him to. Bucky moved to the next phase of his plan as he allowed his fingertips to curl and stroke over Quín’s prostate, feeding off the whines and babbles. He removed his grip from the back of Joaquín’s neck, trailed his left hand down along his spine and slid it around his hip, finally taking hold of the younger man’s cock.

“Don’t cum, baby boy. You know what happens if you cum before you’ve been given permission.”

“Sí. I won’t cum. I won’t. Quiero ser bueno.”

Bucky started to slowly stroke Joaquín’s cock in time with the fingers pumping in his ass. He knew from experience that Quín would have no problems sticking to the rules, until the point that he added his third finger into the mix - it hadn’t been much of a surprise that the Baby Falcon was a size queen, enjoying that extra stretch. But, while Bucky worked up to that over the next few minutes, he curled in close again, kissing over Joaquín’s back, telling him how well he was taking, but also calling him out for how much he was enjoying it.

“Do you think Sam knows just how much of a slut his precious trainee is? How do you think he’d react if he saw how much you enjoy being absolutely stuffed full? Do you think he’d want a taste? How could he not? But what would you say, baby?”

“N-no…”

“And why would you say no?”

“Because ‘m yours. Soy tuyo.”

“Even if you wanted him?”

“Don’t wan’ him. Wan’ you. Sólo tú.”

“Good.” Bucky pressed in his third finger and watched as Joaquín’s back arched, and his hands, which still held his dog tags in a deathgrip, scrabbled for purchase on the rumpled sheets. Briefly, he let go of Quín’s cock, but only so he could grab a fistful of his short dark hair and lift his head up. He grinned wolfishly when he saw the tear marks down the young man’s cheeks.

“Pathetic.” He shoved Joaquín’s face back into the mattress and went back to stimulating his cock, but now he upped the pace.

“Don’t cum. Good fuckholes don’t get to cum until they’re told they can andI’m nowhere near done with you yet.” Joaquín mewled, and Bucky was glad that his own face couldn’t be seen, because he couldn’t stop grinning.

He continued to torment his lover, stroking his cock with firm, long strokes and stretching him out with his fingers.

“I wonder if I could fit four in? I bet I could, but you’d probably cum immediately if I did that, wouldn’t you. Maybe one day we can try. I could even give you the whole hand? What do you think of that? Shove my whole fist up your ass.”

A muffled, wet sounding moan was the only reply.

“What if I used this hand?” He gave Quín’s cock a solid squeeze and the young man started to twitch as if hit by a jolt of electricity, his channel clamping down on Bucky’s fingers. Bucky immediately let go of him, and roughly pulled on his balls, eliciting the most pitiful noise he thought he’d ever got out of him.

“I said, don’t cum. It’s almost as though you want to be punished.”

He brought his left hand down on Quín’s still sore ass, enjoying the squeal that accompanied it, and then picked up the lube. With his right hand still stroking Joaquín deep inside, he squeezed lube over his angry, neglected cock and emptied the rest of the bottle over Quín’s stretched rim. The younger man was hiccuping now, his hips rolling in anticipation of what was to come and Bucky watched the shameless, needy show as he slicked up his cock with his left hand.

“There’s only one thing that will keep a slut like you in their place isn’t there? You want it don’t you? You want it so much.”

He didn’t wait for an answer - Quín’s grip on his dogtags hadn’t lessened at all. He was all in.

Without ceremony, Bucky pulled his fingers from Joaquín’s ass, waited a heartbeat, just so he could watch how his hole gaped - waiting for him - before he lined up his cock and sunk right in.

A scream was the only way to describe the sound that left Joaquín’s throat. His ankles kicked up and down on the mattress, and he writhed, impaled like a butterfly on a pin. But Bucky ignored him, just pinned his head back down with his messy, lube-covered left hand, grabbed his hip with the other and started to hammer into him.

This was worth the wait. This moment when they became one. The push and pull. The give and take. A perfect symbiosis, where he pleased Joaquín, who pleased him in return, and so the cycle continued.

Bucky fucked his frustrations into his babyboy, all his pent up emotions, including the ones he didn’t want to name or look at for too long. He fucked Joaquín hard and fast, and then, to draw it out, changed rhythm to a slower pace, so both of them could feel every single inch of their connection. And when Bucky couldn’t go another moment without seeing that perfect face covered in tears, he pulled Joaquín up, his body held firm against Bucky’s pale, scarred chest, his face, complete with clumped together eyelashes, turned almost over his own shoulder so Bucky could kiss him messily, and lick at the salty trails.

“You’re mine! Do you understand? You never, ever, do anything that stupid, or that reckless ever again. I’m the only one who can hurt you - can break you. And that’s because I will put you back together again afterwards. You hear? I can’t lose you. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

He punctuated each of his words with a thrust, and then moved his hand back to Joaquín’s cock.

“You’re gonna cum for me now. You’ve been so good. My best boy. I know you’ll never do it again. Just cum now. I need to feel you, baby.”

Bucky felt Joaquín’s body lose control before he’d even finished speaking. His ass clamped down on Bucky’s dick in a stranglehold, his slim hips jerking back and forth, and Bucky watched in awe over Quín’s shoulder as his pretty cock spurted out jets of white cum across the sheets. Then he closed his eyes, and bit down on the flesh in front of him as his own euphoric wave of bliss hit him. It felt like he was cumming and cumming, as he pumped himself as deep as he could, holding a limp Joaquín like a rag doll - like the fuck toy he’d called him - in his arms, before the pair of them slowly slumped down onto the stained and ruined sheets.

He felt rung out and drained in a way he never had before. He knew he should be getting up, cleaning himself, getting a washcloth for Quín, and holding his lover tight in his arms, whispering words of praise and affirmation, and stroking his hair as he came around but he just couldn’t seem to.

An indeterminable period of time passed and he felt Joaquin turn in his slack embrace. Slim delicate fingers brushed over his cheek, and combed up into his hair. And then a raspy voice broke the silence.

“Are you okay, Bucky? You’re crying.”

Chapter 4

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @kmc1989

#hot bucky summer #hotbuckysummer2023 #bucky barnes x joaquin torres #buckyquin #bucky barnes #joaquin torres #late writes

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mannien · 2 years

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Recon the Power

Happy Birthday @real-jane ! I’ve been working on this piece way past your Birthday in my time zone, but I know that it’s still your day back where you are from, so please - accept my most honest and best wishes! 🥳 I made it a goal to publish something for your challenge on your Birthday, to celebrate you and give you a little gift from me. I went definitely overboard and wrote much more than I intended. It’s also the first time I’ve written anything in a while, so it may be a little rusty and faulty here and there. But it’s made with love, curiosity, and passion - just like I see your works! Mine is all over the place, but that’s how I am now. I hope I can edit it someday and show you some progress! Please accept my entry for your Escape Challenge. I hope it will not be the only entry, and that it just sparked my creativity.

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky x OC!Leah Novak, Sam Wilson x Leah (platonically)

Word count: 4k

Summary: Bucky, Sam and Leah (witch!OC) attend a socialite Halloween Party to get intel about the Power Broker.

Warnings: blood, cobwebs, descriptions of Halloween decor, smut (allusions to sex, fingering, dry humping), death, some violence, alcohol, adult themes

(The pic below was found on Google, if you feel like it’s yours, do let me know, I’ll credit you)

None of them were heading into the most elitist Halloween party by choice, but the name Power Broker among the rumoured guests was too hard to pass. The task seemed simple: find the snitch who gave the Madripoor’s ruler leverage over governors and senators that played key roles in the upcoming military distribution of the US forces. Sam and Joaquin called it a simple recon, Bucky swore on his arm that they will become political puppets soon, and Leah willingly tagged along, promising that it’s just a precaution measure.

Hotel Royal was a private property in New Jersey, owned by the former mayor. It was known for its seasonal banquets and themed parties for politicians, executives, and celebrities. In essence, the place reeked of money, gossip, and underground exchanges of power. It made them all hesitate before leaving the car and leaving it with Torres, who was supposed to be their eyes of the inside, and surrounding area during their stay. The three was left with nothing but a long red carpet stretching into the reception desk.

They checked into a large suite on the third floor. The large, golden number 33 on the door was smeared with fake blood, and the doorknob sprayed with sticky webs that would make Spider-Man roll his eyes in embarrassment. The room itself, just like the whole hotel, looked like the time stopped in the golden era of elite cocktail parties. Dark wood furniture, golden handles, patterned walls and Parisian windows would make it a good romantic spot for a weekend getaway, only if it wasn’t crowded with the money laundering underground societies. The charm would still be there with the fake pumpkins on the tables, but Sam decided to lay out his tactical gear on the couch before dressing up. So much for a cute room from époque.

“Remember, this is just to get information. We’re not engaging until absolutely necessary,” Sam’s decisive voice echoed through the suite, reaching down to the bathroom and the second room. Bucky walked back to him, buttoning his black shirt. “Eat, talk, be all ears.”

“You don’t have to remind me what a recon is.”

“I know. I wasn’t talking to you.” He nodded pointedly to the bathroom, when the makeup bag landed on the floor with a moderate thump.

“If this is an easy recon, then why Torres is lurking around the building and we’re wearing those tiny earbuds?” she fixed her lipstick and pulled up the dress from around her hips, trying to squeeze through it and not rip it.

“They’re called comms, Leah,” Sam was putting on his shiny black shoes that would - the kind that would get him into a ballroom dance competition.

“She knows that.” Bucky’s mumble was shortly followed by her confirmation.

“I know, Sam.”

He shook his head in disbelief at the childish exchange and fixed his shoelaces.

“Relax. We know the drill,” Bucky patted his shoulder. The tight-lipped smile was the most encouragement he could muster, but that was enough for his friend. “now, give me that tiny earbud.”

Sam sent him a look and exhaled heavily at Bucky’s mocking chuckle. They set up the communication channel with Joaquin and put their looks together with shiny cufflinks, shirts nicely fitted into their waistbands, and spritzes of cologne.

She rarely had the opportunity to dress up like this. Face accentuated by light makeup, hair nicely tucked away from her face with two golden bobby pins, and that body-tight dress; the faux-leather corset-like middle hugged her nicely, making her breasts curve just right. The bottom looked like a black princess gown, but cut off just below her ass. It was flowing with dark, delicate fabrics that jumped over the swell of her bum. Her body looked hellishly good in that dress, and Bucky’s mind repeated that statement to himself when he saw her appear in the doorframe.

“Could you help me zip it?” Her timid voice was such a contrast to the way she looked, that even Sam raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

Bucky put away his phone and walked up to her immediately, not even paying attention to the teasing look that their friend served them. She stood with her back to him, already half-zipped, so not too much of her was revealed. He struggled a little with the fastening, scrunching his eyebrows in the meantime.

“Are you sure it’s not…”

“What?”

“It’s not uh…” he stuttered a little, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t offend her clothing choice. “too tight?”

They both paused for a heartbeat, and Leah listened intently into the nervousness that started crawling out of his mind. She bit her lip and shook her head gently.

“No, it fits. Just pull it up a bit more.” She instructed, but Bucky hesitated. He held the hem between his fingers and looked down, eyeing her bottom carefully as it slid through the material.

“Pull it up? Doll, if I pull it up, your whole bottom will be out.” He protested, not even caring about using the pet name in front of Sam. When he heard her groan, he obeyed, and zipped up the dress and fastened the little clasp on top of it.

Leah let out a small ‘thank you’ and shimmied about in the dress, fitting it comfortably around her. She pulled on the back to check how long it is and confidently pushed it up an inch more, covering more of her cleavage.

“Where, uh…” He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. It caught her attention and made her look up, fixing her gaze on his wide blue eyes. “where did you get this?”

“Why? You like it?” Leah’s voice was barely above a whisper, smiling wickedly at his stoic face that started to break with each look down her body. There was a tint of pink spreading over his cheeks. She could feel the warmth that was building up in his mind; she didn’t have to read his feelings to know that he liked it.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re leaving now.” Sam waved at them and opened the door to the suite, inviting them both to walk out with him.

Bucky passed Leah her comms and waited as she left the room first, making sure nothing was left behind. He walked up to Sam, pursing his lips at the proud smirk adorning his friend’s face.

“Please use the room farthest from the door. I don’t wanna hear it.”

By the time they made it to the ground floor, the party was in full swing. The main hall was covered in dark drapes, singular tables stood out with crimson tablecloths and crystal cutlery. The bar was visibly flowing with the fake smoke; waiters and bartenders were wearing either grim makeup, or a tad-too-revealing costumes. Politicians occupied the tall tables near the stage, where frighteningly flexible gymnasts showed off their skills on poles and hoops. The few lounge areas smelled of cigars and heavily poured whiskey. The whole floor was decorated with bloody signs, warning tapes, and random limbs of mannequins hanging on the walls.

“I didn’t know Jersey’s senators would be into hardcore Halloween themes.” Leah’s mumble resonated in their comms. Nobody said anything in response, as they continued to stare at the bizarre décor of the place. They passed a group of A-list celebrities who were filming it and taking candid photos of the party; clad in equally form-fitting clothes, with glasses already half-empty.

A few bystanders looked at the three with curious eyes; they weren’t necessarily hiding and did not wear their tactical uniforms. For some, such sight would be news-worthy. Bucky cursed himself for not wearing his leather gloves – the golden strokes over his fingers glistened under the dim lights and caught attention of those who knew of his past. He moved his hand nervously in an out of a fist, searching desperately for his pocket to hide his left hand. Just when he was clenching his jaw for the first time that night, Leah’s palm gently wrapped around his bionic arm, silently asking him to bend it, so that he could have her wrapped around it. She lifted up a corner of her lips when he looked at her, and saw through her action – she was calming him down. Leah eased the tension and let go of the tightly knotted nervousness. She worked her magic on him.

They walked some more around the main room, taking in their surroundings and the guests that arrived. Governors chatted with art collectors; philanthropists made silent deals with influencers and valuable personas.

“Guys, ten o’clock, a few gang leaders from Madripoor.” Bucky’s eyes wandered to the target offered quietly by Torres. Leah looked the other way, plastering an empty smile to her face as some performers mixed with the crowd.

“I’m gonna go mingle.” He returned a fake smile and squeezed Leah’s palm, before wandering off.

She swayed her hips a bit more to the heavy bass of music. Walking closer to Sam, she was about to offer him a drink, when her train of thoughts was blocked by someone’s heavy intention to talk. She saw the local governor making his way down to Sam, ready to shake his hand generously and congratulate on the latest achievements.

“I’ll be at the bar.” Her soft voice left him with an overly excited, slightly intoxicated politician.

The bartenders must have been paid extra, because the fire and fake blood were interchangeably accompanying each order. She found an empty barstool to sit and straightened up her back, to catch attention of the Dracula pouring another round of bloody Mary for a tech mogul’s wife.

“What can I get you?” He offered her a little bowl of pretzels and lit up a tealight next to her.

“Gin and tonic. Make it sweet.”

While the bartender was fixing her drink, Leah looked around. Sam was nowhere to be found, the crowd even busier than minutes before. It made it difficult for her to read people’s feelings clearer, so she tried to listen in more.

A creeping wave of anxiety, covered deeply by chemically altered excitement, beamed out of the short, dark-haired guy. He kept on circling his tall beer glass, as he allowed the girl next to him chat him up. He laughed at something the pretty blonde said, but he wasn’t focused on her. He kept on checking his watch and taking small, but continuous sips of his drink.

Leah wanted to read more into this, but the Dracula offered her the drink and made a show out of it, sprinkling it with edible glitter. She smiled thankfully and took a sip, admittedly impressed by the taste. She drank a bit more before turning back into focus, but her perception became clouded by the commotion in the other side of the room. Someone picked up a fight, but it quickly died down as security came out of nowhere, fully stocked with weapons to scare everyone off. The show of power resonated through the room, and the fear among the patrons dissolved quickly with fresh rounds of drinks and other refreshments.

When she turned back to the stress-drinker, he was gone. With sweet concoction in one hand, Leah stood up from the bar and tried to focus. She circled the drinking area and kept her eyes open, looking for that mop of hair and overpriced watch. She thought she saw him near the exit, welcoming someone in, but a group of laughing girls crossed her path and broke the connection. She backed off to an emptier side of the room and played with her hair, while saying,

“Torres, brown hair, short male. Sat three seats to the left from me at the bar, just came up to the entrance.”

“On it. Give me some time, let me know if you see him again.”

It went on like this for some time. She walked around, nursing her glittery drink and looking around for anything suspicious. Some people would walk up to her, chat about nothing and share empty excitement over the party. At one point, Sam’s head flashed in-between the swaying bodies. She got closer, watching carefully as a few senators shook his hand and exchanged pleasantries with Captain America in civil clothing. She rolled her eyes at the overload of testosterone emanating from them, so leaving Sam with their attention was the best choice for now. He was just fine.

Finding Bucky was a little more difficult. The mobsters changed their seats and were moving about, making it harder to navigate which group sucked him in. The last spot she hasn’t checked before was the secluded area with velvet lounges, where the skimpy dressed gymnasts came in, but didn’t leave for a while. She downed her drink and walked towards the little corridor.

Before she could turn the corner, a familiar, female voice resonated from the side. Leah could swear she knew that tone; she couldn’t make up the face, but her mind screamed at her to follow it. She pushed the heavy curtain and took a step inside, trying to be subtle and quiet. What she didn’t expect though, was the strong arm pulling her back forcefully, backing her to the main hall swiftly. Her brain didn’t warn her of any danger lurking behind, so she turned on her heels to be met with Bucky’s heavy gaze.

“I wouldn’t go there.” His low whisper was confident enough that Leah didn’t question him. He gestured with his head to the other way of the room and lead her away, making them blend in with the crowd again.

They found the bar with the same Dracula for a bartender, and Bucky pushed his way through enough to locate an empty bar stool for her. He gestured Leah to sit down, as he leaned on the counter and waved the bartender over to make an order.

She spent a minute taking him in. His suit still crisp and without a wrinkle on the shirt, face hard yet a tad softer, when he turned to her. She swore to limit her use of powers on him to bare minimum, so she didn’t read his emotions. She allowed him be, order them a drink each, and make himself busy for a moment.

“You good?” She asked finally.

Bucky took a swing from the beer glass and licked his lips from the excess foam that gathered around his lips. Absentmindedly, he nodded, looking around before speaking.

“Sharon Carter is here. She’s doing a dodgy business with some jocks, I don’t even know who they are. I don’t want to know. There are people involved.”

That made sense. Leah connected the dots and could hear the voice that she heard moments before; it definitely was the toxic blonde that hid more behind her fake smile, than one would have imagined.

“What are you thinking?” She searched for his eyes. He wouldn’t look at her at first, so she reached up with her palm to touch his cheek gently. It got his attention and made him return the look of concern, locking their gazes in a heavy stare.

“The short guy that Leah paid attention to, he invited Sharon Carter in. She was on the list, so, nothing out of ordinary here. Keep looking.”

Torres’s voice never did sound more annoying. Back to square one.

It was past midnight when they reunited with Sam. The whole evening, he was held up by senators and influential figures, all of which were stakeholders of the military programs. He fished for intel, for anyone to sell any lead as to why the Power Broker would want the US military to be involved in their business, but to no success. He made a few friends that potentially could spill a rare detail in the future, but nothing that would help them find the snitch during the party.

They waited out until the main show would slow down. Sam joined their private pity party with Dracula the bartender, and they just watched. A few people would come up to them to say their goodbyes, but Leah wasn’t even sure who they were. Her mind went on a road trip across the whole room again, scanning everyone and everything around. She was focusing so hard that the plastic straw she was holding, broke between her fingers. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and gently massaged her forehead.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam nudged her in the ribs, and then looked over her head at Bucky.

“Yeah. I’ve been feeling a lot, but never releasing it. It gets heavy.” She mumbled with a groan, closing her eyes for a second.

“You guys go upstairs for a while, get some quiet time. I’ll keep watching,” he nodded toward the exit. “Torres, you still there?”

“All eyes and ears, man.” The connection was still strong, but Joaquin was just quieter, probably more bored and tired with each passing hour.

“Alright. Keep us posted.”

Bucky stood up and took Leah’s hand, pulling her away from the dirty countertop and making her walk away with him. Some security guards nodded at them, almost as if they knew them personally. They stepped into the small elevator and waited patiently for the faulty door to close behind them. She then leaned into him, resting her forehead on his shoulder and letting out a heavy breath. He held her waist and massaged it gently, for reassurance. The elevator stopped at their floor with a little bell sound, and so they walked in silence into their suite.

They left the room clean, and it calmed her senses. They lit up all of the lights and pulled the drapes over the windows. Leah took off her high heels in the middle of the room, not caring about the mess she was leaving behind anymore. Her head was pounding with sudden silence that hit her mind. A shocking wave of unexpected peace made her shudder with relief. She threw herself onto the nearest bed, breathing in the softness of the mattress. She turned on her side to watch him move around the room; he took of his suit jacket and sat down at the couch across from her, legs spread wide comfortably, head resting on the back cushion.

The boiling power bubbled inside of her – her body always sought harmony. She did not use her power physically today, so the accumulated feelings were overflowing. Her eyes were shining with the icy blue hue, making her attention span shift significantly.

She crawled up from bed and slowly made her way to Bucky. He watched her carefully, trying to understand her and her needs. She climbed over his lap, hugging his hips with her thighs. Leah leaned in, resting her forehead on his, locking their gazes in a silent stare off. His hands wandered to her hips, holding her steadily, but lovingly. He massaged her body, trying to ease any discomfort that her body might feel. In return, she leaned down to kiss him on the lips sweetly. Their mouths moved in sync, creating a steady rhythm that started to sway their entire bodies. He knew what she needed and he was more than willing to help her out.

Cold, metal hand palmed her ass cheek. It easily brushed over the delicate material of the dress, making his fingers slip across her body with ease. He repetitively squeezed the firm flesh beneath her clothing, which made her move her hips in unison with his gentle pushes. His harsh tugs on her butt made her grind over his groin, earning a hearty moan out of her throat.

Tight dress slowly hiked up her ass and gave him easy access to the heat of her skin; he released it and quickly grabbed it again, catching it mid-jiggle and making a loud, slapping sound. She kept on moving her hips, feeling her core warm up and soak her panties. Sloppy kisses were interrupted by sudden breath intakes and impatient moans. The steady movement of her hips helped her find the growing bulge in his pants. When she started moving along its length, she let go of his lips with a smack and started kissing his cheek, jaw, and neck. Shamelessly grinding over him, she took a hold of the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned the very top of it. Leah sucked and bit lightly on his neck, not getting enough of the taste of his skin.

Bucky pulled at her panties and moved them to the side, dipping his hand between her ass cheeks and lower. She moaned loudly, feeling the slick wetness leave her core.

“Fuck, baby” Leah almost sobbed, feeling her powers tickle her nervous system. Each movement was more electric and bringing her greater ecstasy. She needed him to touch her, love her, kiss her, and fill her.

“What do you need, doll? Tell me.” He mumbled in between their hot kisses. They were all spit and tongue, teeth clashing when Bucky dipped a finger into her.

She whimpered, stilling her movements as he worked her up. She shook with the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and much needed release.

“Tell me, baby, what do you need?” He pulled out his finger and squeezed her ass.

Too stunned to speak, with shaky hands she reached down to his pants, doing her best to undo his belt and unzip it. She held up her hips to have easier access, fumbling with the zipper and quickly pushing her fingers through the waistband of his boxers. He stopped her by grabbing her wrists in one hand.

“Talk to me,” Bucky made her look down at him, scanning through each other’s faces with attention. “I’ll give you the world, but just talk to me. Just like you make me talk.”

Tears welled up in her eyes; she was overloaded with emotions; her mind powers took a toll on her and she just needed to release it. She couldn’t start shooting up her magic just because she felt like it, so she had to get rid of the heaviness of it all.

“I love you, James,” She kissed him on the lips and looked him straight in his blue orbs, making hers lit up. “I love you so much, and I need you to make me feel so good, that I can forget about everybody’s pain for a moment.”

He smiled with this warm, adoring expression. His face was sparklingly beautiful and looked only at her, nothing else.

What happened next, neither of them expected. Leah was so focused on getting rid of her emotional overload, that she blocked everything else. The lights suddenly switched off, the room drowned in uneasy darkness.

“Sam?” Bucky’s expression hardened, his arms held Leah tighter against his chest.

“The power’s out here too. Joaquin, anything?”

The only thing that Bucky could make out in the room were her eyes. They shone their delicate blue hue, grounding him in distress.

“You have incoming from the main entrance. I can’t scan them, so brace yourselves.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” He whispered to her, not sure how much of their conversation would be muted from Sam and Torres’s comms.

She nodded rapidly, but did so while rapidly wiping at her cheeks. She was letting go of the feelings through heavy tears. Bucky held her by the cheeks and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.

“I love you and I will take care of you, alright?” She nodded in understanding, but sniffed uncontrollably.

They helped each other fix their clothing and blindly search for their weapons. Bucky left the room first, listening in to any sounds on their floor that would suggest any danger. Leah let the blue sparks circle around her fingers, ready to burst up in magical flames to protect them. She lit up the corridor with the blue swirls of energy and followed Bucky down the stairs.

Leah stopped Bucky from leaving the staircase, pointing to the side where she could feel a few people running. They waited out the unwanted company and entered the ground floor, where they saw the backs of the group running away. The one person that turned their way for a split second was the tall blonde, clutching her gun tightly.

“Sharon…” Leah mumbled, looking at her intently, and in disbelief.

Bucky was already ahead of her, kneeling beside a body of a middle-aged man.

“Torres, call 911. One man down.”

“Two more near the bar.” Sam’s heavy voice resonated in their ears, and Leah couldn’t stop the incoming stream of awareness. She kept looking back to where Sharon disappeared into the darkness, feeling the surge of feelings left behind in the air. Her tired mind was swimming fast in the depths of her power, and it helped her understand:

“She’s the Power Broker.”

_____

tagging: @real-jane

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frank-r-t · 2 years

Photo

Would you believe this guy doesn't actually show up in the original book?

#words on bathroom walls #joaquin #devon bostick #redraw #meinwork

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dream-this-nightmare-over · 3 years

Text

can someone make list of dishes made in words on bathroom walls?

i am hungry and i want to learn to prepare new meals.

I will start.

1. Eggs Benedict with Hollandaise sauce

2. Pad Thai with chicken

3. Macaroni and cheese with broccoli and chicken and béarnaise sauce (Adam made when Maya came to meet the parents)

4. Classic lasagna, garlic knots with oil and vinegar, tomato and mozzarella salad, and fried zucchini (Adam made for Maya at her house)

5. Brownies with ice cream

6. Tiramisu

7. Cream puffs with pink and blue filling (made for baby party)

8. Baby bottle cookies (same)

9. Layered carrot cake

10. Country-style biscuits (first thing Adam learned how to bake)

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wintercat666 · 2 years

Text

Devon Bostick as Joaquin

Words on Bathroom Walls (2020)

#Devon Bostick #Words on Bathroom Walls #2020 #movie #screencaps #movie screencaps

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philtstone · 2 years

Note

Your choice of FATWS characters, “feeling their temperature”

They're in Bucharest again, which would've been bad enough on its own. Sam figures if Bucky can manage to not bleed out within the hour, then they'll all get out of this one alive.

He mostly has faith in his partner. The mostly is there because Sam remains nothing if not a resolute pragmatist where neo-HYDRA ambushes and large explosions are concerned. On the other hand, the alternative is straight up unthinkable; Sam's operating on adrenaline alone, and he needs Bucky's help figuring out how to un-fuck this mess, thank you very much.

Bucky bleeding out is not at all conducive to that need being fulfilled.

"Shit, shit, shit," Sam chants, mostly just for something to do, as he and Torres shoulder their way in through the peeling safehouse door. Joaquin is carrying the prototype metal briefcase they managed to abscond with, which is in turn carrying half a wall's worth of blown up, sharded glass and aluminum in its outer casing. Sam isn't quite carrying Bucky, but it's a near thing. Bucky's carrying the other half of that wall.

"Joaquin."

"Yeah!"

"Medical kit's in the bathroom, under my civvies --"

"Got it!"

Bucky groans a bit as Sam eases them onto the threadbare couch and assesses the damage.

Bad. Like, objectively, bad.

But all the pieces seem to be fairly big -- or at least, they are from what Sam can tell. Bucky's shirt was dark already, and is darker now, pretty much all over.

"Don't tell me those old bones are actin' up now, old man," Sam says, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. He shucks his grimy jacket, washes his hands in the sad kitchenette sink, and drops to his knees. He doesn’t have a whole lot of close-up experience with serum-enhanced healing, but he can tell the blood’s been doing its damnest to congeal around the bits of shrapnel that are using Bucky’s upper right torso as a pincushion.

Sam, unsuited because of the covert nature of the op, would have been torn to shreds. Bucky had been halfway on the other side of the room as him.

He does not think about this. They need good disinfectant . Meds will be useless. Does he still have his goddamn tweezers in his kit?

"Very funny, Sam," Bucky says, belatedly, and it is concerning only because the words are no longer coming out through harshly gritted teeth. Sam jerks his head to look back at him midway through digging through their lame supply of antiseptics. Buck’s started drooping -- wilting, or whatever. Sam can see his chin dipping into his chest and his eyelids fluttering.

It took them over two hours to get to someplace with cover. Sometimes these things cannot be helped. Sometimes it is nobody's fault but the bad guys'.

Doesn't mean Sam has to like it.

"Okay," Sam says, "time to take your shirt off."

"Doesn' ev'n buy me dinner first," Bucky mumbles, as though that's not the most cliched joke in the book. Joaquin skids back into the room with the med kit and Sam gets to work, familiar motions embedded in memory that's both muscle and personal. He focuses on the feel of the sheers Joaquin hands over against his palm, the tensile pressure of slowly-darkening gauze against Bucky’s twitching muscles. The cutters aren’t sharp enough to go through the sodden t-shirt, so Sam abandons them, and fumbles around beneath them before tugging out the switchblade he knew was there from the inseam of Bucky's left boot.

He doesn’t really carry guns anymore, but that knife is always there. It tears in a clean line down the front. The rip is satisfying.

"You know anything I cook'll be better than a restaurant," Sam says, as he begins mopping up some of the blood for better visibility.

"D'batable," Bucky slurs.

His breathing isn't properly shallow yet, but getting there. This is not doing anything to help Sam's mood. He uses gentle movements to lift Buck's right arm and get the last of the shirt of.

"Sam, scanner says we've got less than an hour to get out of here before we have company."

Sam puts pressure on the first entry point, gauze in hand, antiseptic burning his nose. Bucky's skin is warm under his hands. He starts on the smallest piece.

"You got any ideas? I'm all ears."

"Military," says Bucky. His eyes are still open, which is good, Sam thinks.

"What's that?"

"They were military," Bucky repeats. His head's fallen back against the couch now; his left hand is gripping the edge of the seat, hard enough that Sam can hear the springs bending and creaking beneath the stained taupe upholstery. He's breathing harshly through his nose.

Joaquin has scrambled back towards the window and is keeping an eye on the street below. He says,

"He's right -- they had insignias, those two weirdos who greeted you guys at the door, remember?"

"Yeah? You catch a rank and status?"

"Rank ..." The words peter out; Sam pulls the second piece out, drops it with a tinny clunk into the plastic cup Joaquin found in the motel room's kitchenette. He lines up the tape, lays down the gauze. Bucky inhales, sharply.

Sam starts again.

"Bucky."

"Nuh huh. Rank -- 'm, fuck."

Why are Sam's hands so warm?

"Torres," Sam says, "I need you to check him for fever. C'mon, Buck, talk me through this."

"Thought tha's what you were -- fuck --" Sam bites down hard on his cheek and twists his surgical pliers -- "doin' for me."

Bucky’s expression flickers into something resembling a grimace when Torres's dry hand presses lightly against his forehead -- of course they don't have a goddamn thermometer in this place, Sam thinks -- but he doesn't seem to be cognizant enough to react when Joaquin makes a small noise of dismay and turns down to Sam, wide-eyed.

"He’s burning up, Cap."

"Shit," mutters Sam. Of course; even with super serum, the human body's natural reaction to unattended, unwanted intrusions is to overheat. He’s never had reason to worry about how Bucky handles fevers before this. Sam, personally, handles fevers poorly. The extended logic is unwanted and frightening, so Sam refuses to acknowledge it. "Uh huh," says Sam, to Bucky, counting himself through the motions. His watch, close to his ears as works around a particularly finnicky bit of glass, ticks steadily. Clunk. "Keep going, man, we need ideas here."

But there's an indelible reality to the fact that his partner’s lucidity is doing its damndest to jump out the window. Uncoordinated breathing, eyes slipping from Sam to Torres to the ceiling to back again, and a slow-building, jittery twitch to his knee that Sam feels is racing him and the clock at once -- it’s useless, to try to figure out if it’s the temperature or the bloodloss or the fact that for the last twenty minutes, Sam’s had pokey metal things digging around Bucky’s chest.

The one and only time he pushed Bucky about going to a hospital, the guy didn't speak to him for almost three days. Sam doesn't want to think about it.

"Bucky, I need you to focus."

"Un huh."

Sam's hands work in fast, assured movements.

"Focus. C'mon, baby, eyes on me. What was their rank?"

"Higher up. Lady with ..." A loud breath -- "with th' hair..."

"Yeah," says Sam. He shakes his shoulders out, cranes his neck back and forth. Got almost got all the shit out -- there's maybe one or two pieces left, one large and angry, the other a smaller shard just barely clinging to the surface of Bucky's collarbone. "They could just be independents," Sam coaxes. "Probably just a handful of crazies."

Inhale, pressure, dig the tool in ...

Bucky's fully hyperventilating now.

"Sam --" This is Torres, from the window, eyes wide.

"Fuck," says Sam. "Bucky? Hey. Look at me.”

The reality of being the person in charge creeps up on Sam sometimes, out of the blue, breaking his heart. They need to get out of here, and fast. He doesn’t know where they’ll go -- how they’ll get there. His head is ringing from the explosion, and there was a part of him, larger than he’d come to anticipate, that Sam realizes was fully expecting the easy support of Bucky’s presence at his side: not taking charge, no, but backing him up -- hearing him out.

He’s known, intellectually, that he will have to call the shots without that sometimes. It’s harder to contend with that fact when his t-shirt’s staining red and he can’t get Bucky to meet his eye.

“Hurts,” Bucky mumbles. His head has lolled over, cheek pressed into the gross couch, sweat lining his brow.

“Torres,” Sam says quietly, hands working faster, “I need to you start tryin’ to chart our exit.”

“But --”

“I know we don’t have a lot of options.” Bucky makes a small, inarticulate noise, as Sam dabs alcohol on the small cut on his collarbone -- “Start with what we know. There’s a shipyard two clicks away from us. That could serve as cover while we figure out the next step.”

“Okay. Okay, okay, yeah.”

Sam moves the pliers around the last, largest piece and nearly bites down on his tongue; Bucky’s left hand has jerked up to wrap around his wrist, stopping him, chest heaving enough that Sam can see with a wince one of his smaller bandages rip open. A couple bones shift in his wrist. Sam ignores this.

“Look at me,” he says, in a clear voice he doesn’t feel. “It’s Sam. You know Sam.” Bucky’s eyes are wide. Sarah joked once they were Bambi eyes, couldn’t figure out how someone supposedly so dangerous could’ve gotten away with being intimidating if he went around looking like that. Something about the memory breaks the intensity of the moment, grounding him, muting the knee-jerk urge to pull his hand away. He sets the pliers down, breath overloud in his own ears, and slowly brings his free hand to cover Bucky’s wrist. He squeezes twice.

“You’re okay,” Sam says loudly. “I need to get this out and then your fever’ll go down. You gotta breathe with me. Can you do that?”

Bucky stares at him. Tick, tick, tick. The bones in Sam’s wrist groan, just a little. They breathe.

“Sam?” he chokes out.

“You back with me?” Sam says. It comes out more gentle than he means it to.

Maybe there is a mutual fear, there, he thinks -- of needing and not having. But then, has anyone ever gotten through this world all on their own?

He watches Bucky breathe again, on his own this time, shaky, one inhale and one exhale.

“Back,” he slurs. “Take it out.”

“It’ll hurt like a bitch,” Sam apologizes.

“Trust you,” Bucky says, and it comes out almost like an echo. Sam gets back to work.

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

Text

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Two

chapter one -Chapter Two: According To Plan - chapter three

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Sam leave for Munich, gaining the surprise addition of Bucky Barnes to their team.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Sam Wilson x platonic!reader

Warnings: spoilers for ep.2, language, violence, squint for fluff in between all the chaos, Y/n and Bucky ain’t feeling each other yet, protective big brother Sam, nobody likes Walker

Word Count: 7.5k (ya’ll, we had to split episode 2 into two chapters because I use too many words lol)

A/N: OKAY, thank you to everybody for supporting the first chapter. I didn’t really think anything would come of it but I was clearly wrong. Hopefully you enjoy this one just as much, each episode will probably be divided into two chapters if the rest of the season continues on like it is.

----

The government hadn’t just failed Sam, they were rubbing his face in the fact that they thought their knockoff Captain America was a better candidate than him.

I followed my brother down the halls of the New Orleans air force base, trying to ignore the paraphernalia that hung on the walls. John Walker was everywhere you looked; the internet, televisions, posters were plastered all over the city announcing his new appointment. Each time I had to read the words ‘Cap Is Back’ I became a little sick to my stomach. Sam stopped in front of me once we’d reached the hanger to stare at one of the posters. Though he tried to keep his face neutral, the sadness bled through in his eyes.

“Seems like a good guy. You met him?” a man who I assumed was Sam’s military contact asked.

“No,” Sam answered before changing the topic, “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.” “Yeah, no sweat. I’m just finishing up the checklist, you two’ll be all good to go once you land in Munich,” he looked to me and reached a hand for me to shake, “Joaquin Torres.” “Y/n Y/l/n. Thanks for not making any noise about me coming along for the ride.”

“Hey, I trust an Avenger’s judgement on who to bring to a fight,” he smiled, stopping at the top of the steps to allow me to go before himself.

I elbowed Sam as we descended the stairs side by side, “Hear that? You’ve got good judge- why’re you making that face?” Before he could answer, a foreign voice announced its presence. “Shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

My eyes fell to the floor below us and climbed the looming figure waiting at the end of the staircase. I didn’t need to have any history lessons on who he was or why he’d come to talk to Sam about such a subject. James Bucky Barnes, the second 100+ year old man to walk the earth without a single wrinkle. The tragic tale of HYDRA’s bloodthirsty history. The man Sam had fought to protect and been sent to prison for.

“Good to see you too, Buck,” Sam passively greeted the man, swerving around his body to continue on our path to the jet. The hint wasn’t taken.

“This is wrong.”

“Hey, hey, look, I’m working, alright? So all this outrage is gonna have to wait.” Bucky fell into step on the other side of Sam, pointing towards yet another poster of John Walker, “You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”

“No, of course I didn’t know that was gonna happen,” Sam’s tone became more emotional, “You think it didn’t break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?” “This isn’t what Steve wanted,” Bucky pushed. Sam was growing tired of the questioning, “What do you want me to do? Call America and tell ‘em I changed my mind? Huh? Yeah, right. It’s a great reunion, buddy, be well.” “You had no right to give up that shield, Sam.” I could no longer stay silent and let him try and make a good man feel guilty. “Okay, you’re out of line with that one, Barnes.” Bucky finally took a second to register my being there before looking back to Sam, “Who the hell is this?” “She’s none of your concern, but let me tell you what you’re not gonna do,” Sam stood in front of Bucky, “You’re not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It’s over, Bucky. Besides, I have bigger things to deal with now.” Emotions I couldn’t fully understand took over Bucky’s face, “What could be bigger than this?”

Sam fished his phone out of his back pocket and held it up to the Super Soldier, “This guy. His connections with rebel organizations all over Eastern and Central Europe and he’s strong. Too strong.” “And?” Bucky asked, unimpressed.

“Well, he’s been connected to this online group called the Flag Smashers. Now, Redwing traced them to a building somewhere outside of Munich so that’s where I’m going,” Sam turned to me to signal we were walking again.

“Well, I don’t trust Redwing,” Bucky continued his pursuit, “Hold on a minute.” “You don’t have to trust Redwing,” Sam said firmly as we paused again, “But I’mma go see if he’s right. ‘Cause I have a feeling they might be a part of the Big Three.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lowered in confusion, “What ‘Big Three?’”

“The Big Three.”

“What Big Three?” “Androids, aliens and wizards,” I answered before Sam could. “That’s not a thing,” Bucky shook his head. “That’s definitely a thing,” Sam nodded. “No, it’s not.” “It really is,” I set my bag down on the ground and crossed my arms, there was no indication we’d be leaving any time soon.

“Every time we fight, we fight one of the three,” Sam insisted.

“So who are you fighting now, Gandalf?”

Sam inhaled to continue arguing before snapping his head back in surprise, “How do you know about Gandalf?” “I read The Hobbit,” Bucky answered confidently, “In 1937 when it first came out.”

“So you see my point?” “No, I don’t. There are no wizards.” I pointed to Bucky and tilted my head towards Sam, “Now there, I agree with him.” Sam looked offended that I didn’t automatically back him up, “You both are wrong…Doctor Strange.” “Is a sorcerer,” Bucky finished.

“Aah!” Sam laughed and poked Bucky’s firm chest, “A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat. Think about it, right? I’m right. I just came up with that, it’s crazy.” Bucky’s face read that he was thousand shades of done with Sam’s childish argument, even if he’d fought just as immaturely. I was beginning to see why Sam didn’t recount his brief time spent with the ex-Winter Soldier that fondly but I’d also forgotten how easy it was to push Sam’s buttons sometimes. There was some unwitting dynamic between them that I didn’t want to be in the middle of. “So glad we’re wasting valuable time on arguing over whether or not Harry Potter’s real,” I spoke up, tapping my foot out of impatience.

Sam was the first to snap back to reality, “That’s not the point. These guys aren’t magical, alright? They use brute force just like you, the incredibly annoying guy in front of me with the staring problem,” he reached down to grab my bag and hand it to me, “Let’s move.” “I’m coming with you,” Bucky called, the sound of his combat boots hitting the hanger floor behind us. “No, you’re not,” Sam answered harshly. “Oh my gosh,” I groaned before dropping my duffle bag again on the tarmac and spinning around to face the two men, “I don’t know how you two could have possibly saved the day as much as people say you have if you’re always like this! You,” I pointed to Sam, “Stop trying to do this on your own. You,” I moved my finger towards Bucky, “No more talking about the shield. If anybody needs me,” I wiggled my fingers and let the blue energy lift my bag into the air, “I’ll be waiting in the jet.” ——

Bucky and Sam stood speechless as they watched Y/n march across the tarmac, her bag magically floating behind her. “Who is she?” “My sister, Y/n,” Sam answered, “I didn’t know she could do that till today. She twisted my arm until I agreed to let her come.” Bucky’s eyes hadn’t left Y/n since she took control and ended Sam and his bickering. There weren’t many people who met him for the first time and didn’t give him a second glance. If she was Sam’s sister then she sure as hell knew about his past. Yet here she was daring to order him around and advocate for him to join Sam and her on their mission. It also went without saying that she was gorgeous. But she had proven that she didn’t understand the seriousness in which the situation with the new Captain America needed to be treated with, and that irked him. Still, his feet automatically wanted to carry him to the jet once she’d headed up the ramp and he’d lost his view of her. “Can’t decide whether I like her or not.”

——

Not having a suit to wear, I had changed on the jet from my sweater, capris and sneakers to a black shirt, jeans, booties and my favorite blue leather jacket that matched the blue that flowed from my fingertips.

When I stepped out of the jet’s bathroom, I expected to find Sam and Bucky fighting again. The whole flight so far has been filled with the same tension that had begun in the hanger and we’d been sitting in uncomfortable silence ever since. I was sure that the second I left, they’d be going at it again like children when a parent disappeared. Instead, they were quietly sitting on opposite sides of the jet with their eyes trained on one another.

“Can you guys quiet down for a second?” I sarcastically remarked as I walked across the room, “I can’t hear myself think.”

I deposited my bag in the corner of the jet near where Torres was climbing down the ladder, “One minute to drop off, Sam.”

I expected to turn around and see both Sam and Bucky up and preparing themselves, but the two men were still embroiled in a stare down. Sam and I had always cheesed each other off in a typical sibling fashion, but Bucky and his relationship seemingly consisted of nothing but that.

Sam finally rose from his seat and Bucky quickly did the same, I brushed past him to stand on the other side of Sam. “So what’s the plan?” Sam ignored the question and handed me a small black device, “This is your comm, don’t lose it.” I nodded and placed the small ear piece in my ear, the faint hums of the jet coming through it.

With no direction from Sam, Bucky sat back down unhappily. “Great. So no plan?”

“Thirty seconds,” Torres shouted over the wind coming in from the open hatch.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck,” Sam remarked from beside me. “No, you can’t call me that.” “Why not? That’s what Steve called you.” “Steve knew me longer and Steve,” Bucky tilted his head to Sam, “Had a plan.”

I shook my head to shake off the ridiculousness of arguing nicknames at the moment. “I’m sorry, are we really playing the name game when we’re literally about to jump out of a plane? I get this is my first mission and all but- Bucky’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as he looked to Sam, “This is her first mission? What the hell were you thinking, bringing her?” “She,” I took a step towards Bucky, “Is more than capable of handling herself. First mission or 100th, I know what I’m doing, Barnes.”

“Fifteen seconds to drop!” Torres’ announcement ended any further arguing between me and Bucky.

“Listen to the woman,” Sam smirked as he put on his goggles, probably thinking back to a few hours ago when I’d body slammed him into the roof, “And I have a plan.”

“Really?” Bucky spread his arms out as we watched Sam walk away from us, “What is it?” Sam had already told me that he’d drop in first and I was to follow once he’d cleared the area. Bucky had not been privy to hearing that discussion and Sam had made no effort to fill him in. Without giving Bucky a second look, but winking at me, he dove headfirst out of the hatch and activated his wings, flying gracefully downwards towards the forest. I had never gotten to see him fly and felt a sense of pride as I looked out to see him glide above the trees.

“Where’s the chute?” Bucky called out.

“We’re at 200 feet, it’s too low for a chute,” Torres stated.

Bucky stalked towards the door, “I don’t need it anyway.”

“Neither will I,” I said, taking a step forward to see just how high we really were. I was confidant in my ability to keep up with Sam and wanted to prove my capability, but I was human. It went against every natural instinct to step out into the air and catch myself. Bucky moved to stand next to me, the two of us turning to face each other. This was the first time we’d actually made more than fleeting eye contact and I was finally able to get a good look at him. His features were sharp, his cheekbones and jaw were extremely prominent. Something more than scruff and less than a beard covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes were cerulean blue, just nearly matching the shade of my energy. Complete with a short, scruffy haircut, I wasn’t sure if handsome was a strong enough word for just how good looking James Barnes was.

“Ladies first,” Bucky nodded towards our exit, never breaking eye contact, “Sure you know what you’re doing?” I smiled smugly, matching the amount of sass radiating from his words, “Do you?”

Not wanting to give him the opportunity to think up a come back, I turned away from him and threw myself out of the plane. An unavoidable scream flew from my lips as I free fell, somehow managing in the chaos to threw my arms out at my sides and expel my energy to control my descent. Once I got a hold on maneuvering the winds, the act actually became almost enjoyable. I found myself laughing as I weaved between the trees, until my laughter was accompanied by a fast approaching scream above me. A shower of branches began to rain down around me forcing me to swerve to the side just in time for Bucky’s figure to come crashing through. He landed harshly on his back, limbs spread out and a pained groan escaping his lips.

I floated directly above him, “I stand corrected, you definitely know what you’re doing.” “I have all of that on camera. You know that, right?” Sam’s voice came through our comms. Redwing flew up from behind us and zoomed in on Bucky’s face.

“Get out of my face, Sam, or I’ll break it,” Bucky uttered, exhaustion filling his voice.

“Okay, head north. Come on.” I snickered at the exchange and lowered myself to the ground close enough to Bucky to extend him a hand. He accepted it and I helped pull him to an upright sitting position, trying to hide the fact that I struggled with his weight. “Thanks.” “Well, my mom taught me to always help my elders,” I said with a smirk, earning myself a scowl in response. “You’re as bad as Sam, aren’t you?” he moaned as he rose to his full height.

“Okay, okay,” I ceased my soft laughter, “I’m sorry. Seriously, are you okay? I know you’re a super soldier but still-” “I’m fine,” Bucky confirmed quickly, brushing the dirt from his jacket and turning north, “Let’s go.”

The two of us fell into a silence that wasn’t necessarily uneasy but certainly not relaxed. We weren’t enemies, we weren’t coworkers and we definitely weren’t friends. We’d spoken all of about five sentences to each other since meeting and none of them had been particularly chummy. “Sam only mentioned one sister,” Bucky broke the non-verbal spell.

“Sarah,” I stated, “We’re not technically related but they’re family. Sam told me he reached out to you and never got anything back. I think he was wondering how you were doing.” “Yeah, well…” he mumbled, stepping over a particularly large boulder and avoiding my gaze.

I decided not to push the subject, not only were we nearing the warehouse, Sam could hear us through the comms and Redwing. But I made a note of the lightning quick wave of emotion that crossed Bucky’s eyes. Sam was definitely a trigger for him, but I had a feeling this was something much more complicated. Something I didn’t have time to get too curious over.

We made it out of the forest and Redwing led us to the back entrance to the warehouse. The graffiti and wrecked roofing made me want to believe that nobody had been there in ages, but Sam’s intel contradicted the setting. My brother, the esteemed military man, was also contradicting his age as he maneuvered Redwing just above us to provoke Bucky into taking a swing at him. “Oh-ho-ho, don’t hurt him,” he teased as Redwing quickly avoided the assault.

Sam stood in the next room staring down at the screen on his wrist, scanning the building through Redwing’s camera. He took a quick look at me to assess that I hadn’t been injured in the fall before turning back.

“You’re doing the staring thing again,” he commented without looking up. That one I’d give him, Bucky’s smoldering stare game was intimidating especially when he wasn’t saying anything. “They’re in there,” Sam tilted his head towards the nearest open doorway and stretching his arm out so Bucky and I could see what Redwing was seeing. There was a truck with two people loading in containers of something.

“Where’s the guy?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. I think they’re smuggling weapons though.” “Well, I think you could be right,” Bucky’s voice lowered. “Hmm,” Sam nodded.

“But there’s only one way to find out,” Bucky turned towards the doorway, “I see a clear path, I say we take it.”

As soon as his boot hit the ground in its first step, Sam reached for his arm. “We’re not assassins.” “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, observe from a distance rather than attack straight away?” I offered.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to me when I spoke and promptly back to Sam, throwing away my suggestion. He probably thought me naive. “I’ll see you inside or not.”

He pulled his arm out of Sam’s grip and went ahead, leaving Sam chuckling to himself. “Hey, come on, man. I’m just messing with you, come back,” he called softly. “‘I’m just messing with you,’ the Avengers’ official slogan,” I dryly jested, “Here I was thinking we were doing serious work. Is Redwing still surveying?” “Yeah,” Sam was still smiling to himself as he turned to watch Bucky stalk down the hallway, “Look at you. All stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther.”

“It’s actually White Wolf,” Bucky responded in our ears.

“Huh?”

When we lost visual on Bucky, Sam snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hallway. We made our way through the various openings until we’d caught up, Sam held up a finger to his lips as we caught sight of Bucky and our steps became even softer.

“All right, I’m inside. Therefore way ahead of you,” Bucky bragged, turning back to where he thought we waited, “It’s not great but very doable.” His peripherals must have caught the red and white of Sam’s suit, he turned to see the two of us at his side. “Hello. How are you?” “Good. What did we miss? Nothing,” Sam replied.

“All right, let’s go,” Bucky moved to step forward again.

“No, wait,” Sam protested.

Bucky held up his prosthetic vibranium arm I had heard so much about. “I got a vibranium arm, I can take them.” “And I can fly, she can make things float, who gives a shit? Wait. I want to see where they’re going.” Bucky pointed towards the truck that was still being loaded, “There’s two people.”

“You only see two?” Sam started. “That’s what I saw,” Bucky confirmed.

“Let me see what Redwing sees.” “All right…” “Let’s see what Redwing sees…”

I held two fingers to my temple and rubbed, “My gosh, it’s like working with children.”

Sam fiddled with a few controls on the screen and activated the x-ray feature on his beloved drone, “Oh, look at that. How many people you see now? One, two…Oh, here it comes again.” Bucky sighed, unhappy to admit he was wrong, “Four. Five.” “Yeah, five.” “So they’re strong, whatever,” Bucky brushed off not only the math but our group’s capabilities. “Let’s go.”

“Barnes, wait,” I hissed as Sam reached out and took hold of his arm, his elbow hitting the metal shelves we were hiding behind and rattling something.

“Shit!” Sam whispered, he pulled me to his side to block me while Bucky ducked down. The group turned to investigate the noise but disregarded it at the lack of visible culprits. The trucks started and their doors were closed, each person getting into their designated vehicle. Sam started tapping on Redwing’s controller again, “There’s an eighth person. I think they have a hostage.”

With one look from Bucky, the three of us snapped into action. I raised myself into the air ahead of Sam who took off slightly behind me, looking down to see Bucky running impossibly fast. “Y/n, with me,” Sam called through the comms, I listened and hung back until he’d caught up. Bucky continued on his way until he’d climbed onto the back of the truck. I followed Sam’s lead as we flew to the side of the road.

“Shouldn’t we be helping him?” I asked as the two of us landed.

“They’re stealing medicine, vaccines,” Bucky’s voice filled my comm.

“He’s got it, we’re staying here and waiting for him to come back with the hostage. Then you and I are gonna keep following the trucks and see where they’re heading,” he explained, “I’m trying to keep you out of as much of the fight as I can.” “That’s the whole reason I came, Sam,” I argued, gesturing towards the road, “To help, to fight.”

“Bucky, talk to me,” Sam favored to ignore my desire to do dirty work, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Found the hostage,” he reported, followed only seconds later by a loud exclaim of “Shit!”

Adrenaline set every nerve alight in my body, something had gone wrong. Without asking for Sam’s permission I took off running down the road. I used my energy to lift towards the sky and flew the same way the truck’s had gone. Distantly, I heard Sam yell my name but made no effort to stop. “Barnes, talk to me,” I yelled over the winds I was flying against. As I spotted the trucks I saw the small silhouettes of figures standing atop one of them. Once I got closer, I could see that the one being aggressively pinned by two of them was Bucky. I landed on the vehicle’s roof just in time to see someone leap into the air, grab Redwing and break him with their knee. Between my want to help Bucky and my second hand protectiveness over Sam’s gear, I was pissed. The masked figure looked up at me, two brown eyes peeking out of eyeholes and marched forward, making me their next target. I created a ball of blue energy and aimed it at her, knocking her down but only for a second. She leapt towards me and landed a punch across my cheek, I went down with a groan and cradling my cheek. Now I was really pissed…

I opened an eye to see the shadow of Sam’s Falcon suit above me, he touched down on the truck and landed a kick to my assaulter’s abdomen. He quickly helped me to my feet as our enemy rose again and took a fight stance.

“Good of you to join the fight, Sam,” Bucky yelled before kicking one of his captors in the leg.

The person who had given me the shiner threw Sam aside to the second truck like he was weightless. She was far too small to be that strong, it was inhuman. I decided to hold back a little less and raised my hands toward her, extending waves of the blue energy and raising her up into the air. She struggled to try and escape my hold, grunting and groaning as she flopped around in the air. I was about to throw her into the trees when I was tackled from behind. We skidded towards the front of the truck till the boot of one of the thugs holding Bucky down hit me in the shoulder. Another masked figure, this one I suspected to be a man, had his arms wrapped tightly around my abdomen. He flipped me over and raised his head to slam into mine. Luckily he hadn’t thought to pin my arms down and his mistake allowed me to throw them in front of my face and create a force field that even the thickest of skulls couldn’t penetrate. I looked briefly to see Sam being pinned down as well on the second truck but couldn’t free myself to go help him.

And then, in a conflicting twist of events, a red white and blue shield came flying through the air.

As I struggled to keep the force field up and my arms locked, I made out an equally patriotic suited man throw the shield at the one who had punched me earlier. A second figure swung in from a helicopter and kicked her off the truck, leaving her clinging to the edge of the roof. The shield flew in the direction of the people holding Bucky down and hit one square in the back before bouncing back to its wielder. The guy holding me down was struck next and rolled right off of me, I sent a significantly bigger blast towards his chest that sent him flying off the back of the truck. Bucky reached down and helped me stand up, he pulled me out of the way when the shield came flying by our faces to hit his other attackers.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I panted.

John Walker stopped briefly to introduce himself to Sam, like he hadn’t been living rent free in our minds since that damned tv broadcast before sending the shield flying past Bucky and I again. As it bounced off our enemies and back towards Walker, Bucky’s metal hand snapped up to grab it only for Walker to retake it. The time for anger or sadness wasn’t now, though the forlorn expression on Bucky’s face said otherwise. I broke from him and launched myself across the gap between trucks to land near where Sam was being attacked. Bucky followed suit and we began taking out each person one by one till Sam stood and turned too fast, hitting and sending Bucky plus one of the masked thugs over the side of the truck. Sam and I turned to face our last attacker who was stalking toward us, Sam glanced over his shoulder quickly before looking back ahead. “When I say ‘now,’ you shoot up,” he ordered, “Now!” I blasted upwards and over the overhead road sign he’d known would hit our attacker. I was too high to drop down suddenly but watched as Sam touched back down on the truck to be punched off the truck, activating his wings and catching himself in the wind. I flew downwards and lined up with the side of the truck, searching frantically for Bucky while trying to dodge the cars to my left. Bucky was clinging for dear life to the underside of the truck. His attacker stomped his metal arm with his boot till Bucky lost his grip with it and it dragged along the road creating a flurry of sparks.

“Sam, what do we do?” I yelled into my comm. “Now when I say ‘drop,’ you drop.” “Are you insane?!” I screeched, looking down at the asphalt and trying to calculate how fast I may be going. “DROP!”

Putting the most trust I ever had in Sam, I stopped the energy flow and was tackled mid-air by him. I twisted in his arms to wrap my legs around one of his and my arms around his back. Without warning, he flew us under the nearest truck before letting go of me with one arm and tackling Bucky. I readjusted my grip to have one arm around both of them. We dropped out of the air and crash-landed, rolling like a grunting and groaning wheel through a field of yellow flowers. Eventually we ceased our tumbling with Bucky on top of Sam and me to the side still clinging to both of them.

“Could have used that shield,” Bucky ground out tauntingly in Sam’s face.

“Get off of me,” Sam strained, shoving Bucky off with another loud grunt. I rolled to his other side and coughed loudly, having had the wind knocked out of me during the crash. The three of us lay on our backs trying to regain our breath, Sam and I more than Bucky but I chalked that up to the fact that he was just as strong as the people we’d just gotten our asses handed to us by. “Those were all Super Soldiers, Sam,” he stated in awe.

“I know,” Sam confirmed, “You’re welcome, by the way.” He pushed himself up painfully on an elbow to lean over me, “Are you okay?”

I was finally starting to feel like I could get some semblance of a normal breath in. I’d have wished it was running around with AJ and Cass that would have showed me I was out of shape and not losing a fight to Super Soldiers. “‘Big Three’ my ass, Wilson,” I wheezed, making no effort to sit up yet.

“I said ‘might be’,” Sam weakly fought, “‘Might be.’ Clearly I was wrong.”

“Will wonders never cease?” Bucky winced as he sat up, “We need to get to the airport and reformulate.” “Oh, do we now? Do we need to reformulate?” Sam mocked from the ground, “I hadn’t thought of that yet, Bucky, what an incredible-“ I groaned loudly and forced my torso up, “Dear God above, if you two don’t stop acting like twelve year olds, I’ll catch a Delta flight home.” “Good, that’s where I wanted you,” Sam reprimanded as he rose to join me, “I told you if you took some stupid risk, you were going back home and what did you do? You took off on your own towards those trucks!” “I was trying to help him,” I threw my hand out towards Bucky, “One way or another I would have gotten hurt, Sam, whether I’d have waited for you or not. And now that I’ve actually seen what we’re dealing with? No way am I going home.” I rolled onto my knees and got to my feet, my muscles aching with each movement I made to stand in front of the two men. “When you two decide to start acting like adults, I’ll meet you back at the jet.”

Holding in each groan that wanted to escape my mouth, I started my trek back towards the road, not making it very far until I heard two pairs of footsteps behind me.

We walked that way for most of the way, Sam and Bucky muttering something every once in a while to each other and me ahead of them trying to wrap my head around the situation. I had gotten myself tangled in the world of super soldiers, ones who weren’t using their advanced capabilities to save the world from one of the actual Big Three. Not only that but we’d had the displeasure of being rescued by the person the three of us had wanted to see least in the world. I had started the day out having coffee with Sarah on our back porch and by eastern standard time zone’s definition was ending it in Germany mid-afternoon with a killer bruise developing on my cheek. Whatever I had expected to come from joining Sam, it sure as hell wasn’t this.

A car honk summoned me out of my thoughts, an open roofed vehicle came up beside me and I was quick to identify the passengers. John Walker and the helicopter soldier.

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” Walker attempted to make friendly conversation, specifically with Sam and Bucky but I could sense I was also welcome to answer. I didn’t cease my movements and neither did Sam and Bucky which only caused Walker to instruct the driver to get ahead of us again. “Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three, so…” “Aliens, androids, or wizards?” the unnamed soldier double checked with Walker, who responded that he was still almost certain.

“There’s no such thing as wizards,” Bucky grumbled from behind me, sounding like the old man he biologically was.

“Then it’s aliens, or androids,” Walker shrugged. “Or Super Soldiers,” Sam corrected.

“Shit, Super Soldiers, for real?” Walker’s sidekick asked before turning in his seat to face, “Do you believe that?” “I believe that you two don’t know how to take a hint,” I frustratedly smiled at him, “But yes, I do.”

“Wow. All right, well, then we gotta work together,” Walker said. Bucky scoffed, “That’s not happening.”

“I think we stand a much better chance if we all just-“ Bucky finally lost his patience and said the thing we all were thinking, “Just ‘cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.”

Walker was quick to defend himself, “Look, I’ve done the work, okay?”

Bucky was equally as quick to prove him wrong, “You ever jump on top of a grenade?” “Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times,” Walker explained, “It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long story, but, look…It’s 20 miles to the airport, you guys need a ride.” A sudden cramp tore through my shin causing me to sharply inhale and grab the leg. Through the pain I managed to exhale and begin limping back along the path, “We’re good, thanks.”

“At least let us take her, she’s injured,” I heard Walker attempt to convince Sam and Bucky, knowing that I was probably a means to an end to get them in the car.

I didn’t get very far before I felt Sam’s arm wrap around my waist, “C’mon…” As much as I wanted to fight him on it, I knew I wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before I was bent over again in pain. The adrenaline had worn off and my whole body was starting to ache deeply in a way that made even breathing hurt where it shouldn’t. I dropped my head in frustration and nodded, putting my arm around Sam’s shoulder to let him brace me. He helped me limp back to the car where Bucky gently handled my other side, the two of them lifted me into the vehicle where Walker and his friend tried to help me sit down. I shrugged off their unwelcome hands and used the roof’s poles to lower myself into a seat. Sam jumped in and sat on one side of me, gently lifting the leg that was really bothering me onto his lap to try and massaging my shin. Bucky climbed in on my other side and gave me a once over, trying to assess if I was in any further pain that I wasn’t letting on to.

“Okay,” Walker began as the car rocked to life again, “So we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?” “They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip,” Sam explained, “Maybe they’re just trying to help.” “They had a funny way of showing it,” Bucky commented.

“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record,” Walker quickly looked to Bucky, “No offense.” I tried not to judge people too harshly upon first meeting them, but I had no problem deciding right away that Walker was an asshole.

“We need to figure out where they’re going,” Sam spoke up before an argument could break out, “How’d you track ‘em here? The Flag Smashers?”

“Uh, no, we didn’t track them. We tracked you, uh, through Redwing,” Walker’s friend answered, dipping his head down to avoid Sam’s stony gaze.

“You hacked my tech?” “Sorry,” Walker laughed, “It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property,” he gestured to himself, “Kind of the government.” My lips parted and I tilted my head, ”Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry,” Walker extended his hand out to me, “John Walker, Captain America. And you are?” I glanced between his hand and him, “Not impressed.” He awkwardly retracted it and turned away from me to Bucky, “Does he always just stare like that?” “You get used to it,” Sam replied, suddenly he had no problem with Bucky’s habit.

“Okay, look,” Walker cleared his throat, “You know things have gotten kind of, uh…” “Chaotic,” his friend finished for him.

“Yeah. The GRC, they’re doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post Blip.” “Reactivating citizenship, social security, healthcare. Basically just managing resources for the refugees who were displaced by the return.”

“The Global Repatriation Council does all that, I get that,” Sam said impatiently, “So why exactly are you two here?”

“Well, they provide the resources and we keep things stable,” the soldier answered.

“Yeah, violent revolutionaries aren’t usually good for anyone’s cause,” Walker said. “Usually said by the people with the resources,” Sam looked up from the work he was doing on my leg to look dead at Walker.

“We got a lot of resources,” he stated confidantly, “If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could-“ “No,” Bucky and I said in unison, now having agreed on two things. Walker was a phony and wizards weren’t real.

“I got mad respect for both of ya’ll,” Walker’s friend complimented, “You too, ma’am. But you were kinda getting your asses kicked till we showed up.” Bucky finally dragged his stare off of Walker, “Who are you?” “Lemar Hoskins.” “Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins,” Sam commented.

“I’m Battlestar,” Lemar reintroduced himself, “John’s partner.” “‘Battlestar?’” Bucky echoed the ridiculous nickname, snapping his head suddenly toward the driver, “Stop the car!”

The driver obeyed and quickly halted in the middle of the road, giving Bucky the opportunity to jump out of the car. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for me to join him but I wasn’t about to leave Sam’s side. I held a hand up to him to which he responded by closing the back door and starting down the path that veered off the main road.

“Look, I…I get it, okay? I get the attitude, I do,” Walker started, he couldn’t come close to understanding how insulted all three of us were for one uniting reason, “You don’t think that the shield was gonna end up here. I get it, Bucky,” even the call of his name wasn’t enough to make him stop, “And I’m…I’m not trying to be Steve. I’m not trying to replace Steve.” “Could’ve fooled me,” I snorted, removing my leg from Sam’s lap as he’d stopped rubbing it long ago. “I’m just trying to be the best Captain America I can be, that’s it,” Walker focused his eyes on my brother, “It’d be a whole lot easier if I had Cap’s wingmen on my side.” Sam scoffed and looked out of the corner of his eyes at me as if to make sure he hadn’t heard incorrectly. He hadn’t, and I was about two seconds away from putting my powers to good use and beating Walker with his own shield that he could never truly hold ownership of. “It’s always that last line…”

Sam climbed over me and hopped out first before helping to lower me to the ground. A defeated Walker ordered the driver to leave and we watched to make sure they actually left for good. “Torres said he’s nice?” I asked sarcastically as we resumed our familiar posture of Sam helping me walk. “Torres is young, impressionable and follows every order he’s given. Guys like Walker have a problem with anyone who doesn’t take their every word as gospel.”

“Well, your mom made us attend enough church when we were kids for me to know that right there,” I pointed back to the car that was now a dot in the distance, “Is a false prophet.”

I trained my eyes ahead of us, Bucky hadn’t gotten too far and it looked like he had actually slowed his pace for us to catch up easier. While I was angry with the government for appointing Walker and the man himself, I knew that the pain Sam and Bucky were feeling was exponentially heavier to deal with. They’d already lost their friend and Walker was the salt being rubbed in the wound.

When we did eventually make it to the plane an hour later, I was biting back tears at how much pain I was in. Sam took notice of how I was trying to conceal them as we approached the tarmac and carried me the rest of the way.

“I gotta check for any internal bleeding,” he said as he set me down gently on the seats of the jet, “And you’re going home.” “No, I’m not,” I moaned. “Yes, you are,” he scolded as he lifted up my shirt to the bottom of my bra so that he could get a clear view of my abdomen, “Sarah’s gonna pound my ass into the ground as it is for bringing you back bruised.” My eyes could no longer stay opened, further fluttering shut as I didn’t hear Sam state that he saw anything concerning. “Get some sleep,” he ordered, “I’ll take care of anything I find.” Just before I drifted off, I heard a second body kneel down next to Sam. “She okay?” “Yeah, she’ll be fine,” he answered Bucky, “I just should have never brought her.”

————

When I did wake up, the plane was dark except for the minimal lighting towards the cockpit. I attempted to sit up, biting back a groan as I did. There was a blanket draped over my bottom half and my jacket was now folded underneath my head as a makeshift pillow. Sam was sleeping upright near my feet, arms crossed and snoring quietly.

“Glad to see you’re okay,” a quiet voice startled me, I turned to see it was Bucky. “A little out of my depth,” I remarked, rubbing one of my eyes, “But yeah, okay.”

Bucky nodded and looked back down at his folded hands, for some reason the contrast of the gold and black metal meeting the pale flesh fascinated me. He must’ve sensed I was staring because he peered up at me through his lashes. I quickly looked away, “I’m guessing we’re on our way back to New Orleans.” “Baltimore, actually,” he replied.

“What’s in Baltimore?” I whispered, trying not to wake Sam. “Someone that Sam needs to meet.” “Okay,” I slowly swung my legs off the seats to properly face him, “Who’s in Baltimore?” Bucky gave me a tired look, “Just someone, you’ll meet him too.” I bristled slightly at his answer, shooting him a half smile. “You don’t trust people, do you, Barnes?”

I wouldn’t call what his lips did was a smile, but maybe a sarcastic knock off of one. “You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

“Only when people don’t give me any answers,” I fired back in a contradictorily easy tone, “Look, you don’t have to trust me. That’s fine, I’m going home after whatever surprise you have for us anyway so you won’t have to deal with me slowing you guys down anymore.” “Sam was endangering you by bringing a civilian to an Avengers level fight,” he quickly said, “That’s on him, not you. And none of us were exactly at our best today.” A supercut of the three of us each getting slapped around silly on top of the trucks played in my mind. He was definitely right, nobody could have predicted that we’d be thrown for such a loop. Not even the man pretending to be Captain America. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Walker,” I offered as softly as I could, “I’ve watched him parade that shield around on tv for days and I’ve gotten angrier each time. Not saying it’s the same as what you’re feeling but…I’m just sorry.” Bucky didn’t respond, he actually looked away from me and back down at his hands. “You should get some more sleep, we’re still a ways out.” It was clear I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him, not that I felt any burning desire to try to get him to open up. I’d only tried out of politeness and the slight glimmer of curiosity I held when it came to what lay beneath his hardened surface. “Goodnight, Barnes,” I said, laying back down and rolling over so I didn’t have to look at him any longer.

----

A/N: Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged! There’s still a lot of surprises that are coming...

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @themaddies-obx

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

When It’s Over

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,762

Warnings: canon level violence

A/N: back w cheek to cheek😌 there's some heavy inso from the fight scene from fatws w walker so peep that👀 as well as some linked references to past pieces!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

The near-silent sound of the door clicking shut wakes you up. While you know if there was some kind of actual threat there’d be alarms and lights going off because of F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's security measures, your body still tenses at the unnatural sound.

Why is someone in your room in the middle of the night? Unless -

A sweaty and musky smell floods your nostrils as the intruder hunches over your body, burying their face into your neck and breathing in deeply before pressing a soft kiss. Bucky’s home.

You turn over and place your hands on either side of his face to kiss him properly but you pause when his face feels unnaturally wet.

“Is that sweat? Why are you all wet?” You whisper into the darkness, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your bedside table.

You gasp when the light reveals Bucky’s face, neck, and hair drenched in blood. You eyes roam the rest of his body to see his tactical gear in the same condition.

“Jesus, Bucky, who were you fighting?”

He smirks, fatigue clouding his features, “You should see the other guys.” Your eyebrows scrunch at the sound of more than one person as he reaches into one of his pant pockets, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper.

He hands it to you and turns away to begin stripping off his dirty clothes. You unfold it carefully so as to not rip it or mangle it up further to reveal your list, with all of the names crossed off harshly and a new one added at the bottom, a name not in your handwriting nor in your memory.

“Is this what you were doing? Who is the last name? I didn’t write that.” While you're upset he lied to you, you feel an indescribable sense of relief wash over you, a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. No more HYDRA after you. No more handlers. No more guards after your blood, your powers.

“The soldier who shot you. With the metal arms. I destroyed everything that even looked a little bit like a serum in every building I went to, so I think he’s the last super soldier. Or at least for now. I hope.” He tells you, finally down to his underwear. He’s still breathing kind of heavily, probably from pure exhaustion. He’s only been gone for six days and he took out all the names on your list. Did he even sleep?

You’re still holding the list in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered. He uses his towel to scrunch out as much water from his hair as he can and tosses it in the pile of dirty clothes. He pulls on a pair of underwear and doesn’t even bother putting on actual pajamas, approaching the bed.

“I promise we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. He’s supposed to be in Minsk. I’m so fucking tired…” He sighs, trailing off, taking the list from your hands and placing it on the nightstand, turning off the lamp.

“Where is that?”

“Belarus. Above Ukraine.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up. And for not telling you, I didn’t want to -”

“Shh, don’t apologize. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m just glad you’re home.”

The thought of technically being free hasn’t hit you, it hasn’t even begun being processed by your brain yet. It probably won’t for a while, a few days, maybe weeks. No more HYDRA.

Bucky slumps into the mattress next to you, not even getting under the covers, too tired to adjust his position. You get out from under the covers as well, pushing yourself up against his back, spooning him like a backpack, trying to pull him as close to you as possible.

In less than a week, he got rid of everything and everyone you’ve been afraid of for years. People you had nightmares about, that hounded your every thought every single hour of every single day. He got rid of them for you.

He grabs your hand that rests on his chest and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it.

No more fear.

...

Bucky sleeps for fourteen hours, into the following evening. He wakes up to the smell of toasted bread, the crust around his eyes pinching at his skin until he brings up his right hand to rub it away. He sees your back at the counter and after another deep inhale, smells acidic tomato and smoky bacon.

Sandwiches for lunch. He glances at the clock to see the time as 5:18. Sandwiches for dinner.

He lets out a long yawn as he sits up, left arm reaching up to scratch at his head, hair feeling knotted due to the fact that he fell asleep with it wet. I need another haircut soon.

He gets up and walks around the kitchen island to greet you, despite missing most of the day. You turn to face him as you hear his footsteps approach and reach up to plant a long kiss on his mouth.

“I have mornin’ breath,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, hands resting gently on the tops of your shoulders as he feels your hand wrap around his naked waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.” You kiss him again and again, harder and harder each time.

“Babe,”

“You freed me.” More kisses.

“Huh,” He giggles against your lips, finding your affection amusing, but unknowingly needed.

“I love you. Thank you. You freed me, you saved me.” You repeat, kisses smacking in between your words.

He thinks back to the mangled list he tossed in your direction last night, how he came home covered in blood in an exhausted haze. You freed me, you tell him. From HYDRA, he understands.

“You don’t thank me for nothing,” He pulls away, hands cupping your face in order to temporarily stop your kisses, “I love you. I’ll do anything for you. It’s the bare minimum.” He tells you.

All you do is stare up at his blue eyes. As though he’s Atlas, holding up the world underneath your feet. The bare minimum. How he’s ruined you for any man or person at all with the way he treats you, the way he loves you. You don’t look away from him with your loving stare as he steals a piece of bacon off the pan on the stove before turning and going into the bathroom.

...

You, Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin occupy the small jet on the way to Belarus.

“Who are we fighting again?” Sam asks, half-serious, as he adjusts the shield on his back.

“His name is Jean-Baptiste Allaire. But I don’t think he knows that.”

“...Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“A bad guy.” Bucky answers this time.

I suppose that is all he really needs to know.

Soon enough the plane lands and the three of you go off, leaving Torres in the jet to monitor and wait in case there’s a need for backup, eventually ending up in a dilapidated building. You assume it’s a facility used to house the soldier, if Bucky was able to trace him back to here. They probably keep him away from the major facilities with most of the guards to limit the risk of him dying during raids or other compromises, you think.

“Be careful around this guy.” Bucky warns Sam as you get closer, approaching the building, slowly walking down a long hallway in order to find anything that would signify him being here.

Bucky slows down, causing everyone else to slow down as they approach the end of the hallway, allowing the only option to turn to the left, revealing a large cell, the soldier sitting in the corner.

A flash of confusion flashes across his face before it disappears, an emotionless expression replacing it as he stands, the whirring of his metal arms being the only sound as he approaches the three of you, ready to fight.

The three of you back up down the hallway to allow more space, but it doesn’t last long as he begins to attack, launching himself at Sam to start mindlessly fighting.

The soldier and Sam throw punches at each other and you run over to help, but as you come up to them, he whips around, grabbing you by the collar of your tactical vest, and throws you across the room with one swing.

“Woah!” Your body smashes into a wall, a loud creaking sound coming from the metal of his arms as your body makes impact and slams to the ground.

“Shit!” You groan, getting ignored as the three men fight each other. He’s strong as fuck.

Your vision stops spinning and you stand, a shield whizzing past your head, nearly decapitating you, and lodging itself into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s already got blood all over his face from fighting him, and you take a wild guess that the soldier has some sort of serum that’s the same or stronger than Bucky’s in his body.

He grabs Bucky and flings him to the side, his body crashing into the cell he was originally in. A metal pole with wires wrapped around it stands in the middle of the small cell, which Bucky’s body slams into, electrocuting him and knocking him unconscious.

You remember Bucky explaining to you one time that he was always going to be a lot more sensitive to electrocution and shock therapy after what HYDRA would do to him, regardless of how super he is.

You look to Sam to see the soldier straddled on top of him, throwing punch after punch into his face, then moving to tear off one of Sam’s wings with his bare hands, sparks flying around them.

Suddenly something flows through you. Not something; anger. Pure rage. You realize that this guy is out to kill and it’s like a switch has been flipped. You're reaching over towards the wall and ripping out the shield, throwing it as hard as you can and hitting the soldier in the side of the face.

You march over while he’s distracted and disoriented by the blood pouring out of his head and kick the side of his face, knocking him over and off of Sam. You use the same leg to kick at the shield that’s now on the ground, flipping it up into your hands, and slam the flattest part down onto his head, using it to block the punch he throws.

You toss it to the side and straddle him yourself when you get a split second of a chance, him hitting you with a gnarly punch - a Bucky-level, super-soldier punch - but you hit him back, ignoring the fiery hot pain that explodes in your face. Though not as strong, you feel your fists break his nose and crack his cheek bone, his blood making your hands stickier and stickier as you punch and punch and punch.

“Don’t! Touch! My! Friends!” You yell in between punches, using both your hands to slam down at the same time, blood dripping from your own face from his singular punch.

You slam both hands onto either side of his face, and in a second, you realize you’ve tapped into his brain. His arms drop to the ground beside his body and you’re in complete control.

Never have you ever tapped into someone’s mind so quickly. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fiery anger of seeing your friends getting hurt that made it so easy.

You smile wickedly, laughing in his face, “Now, you’re mine.” You pant through your teeth.

“51, don’t.” Bucky groans. You glance up to see him on his hands and knees now, still feeling the after effects of the electricity, small sparks jumping from creases in his arm. You look over to the side to see Sam also leaned over on the ground, looking at you. Waiting.

They’re not scared of you, but they’re… wary. Everytime you’ve controlled someone’s mind, they’ve died. The man from prison. The scientist from the HYDRA video. Dead in a second because of your powers.

Bucky looks at you and he sees the same girl from that video years ago, one of few survivors of a HYDRA facility, smiling with blood caked in between the cracks of your teeth, pure powerful energy running through your veins.

The soldier lays underneath you, unmoving. You look down at him again and his eyes are pooling with fear. An understandable feeling for someone who’s aware of what’s happening, who’s present in the moment, but has zero control of their body. A feeling he probably knows very well being under the control of HYDRA.

He probably came into the picture after Bucky’s escape and the initial fall of HYDRA, a sad soul that was captured and forced to comply. A job that used to be yours. Tortured, arms torn away, and mind blended until he didn’t know anything other than to fight.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing,” You reassure, “Maybe just… have him jog around the block in his underwear a few times. For fucking up my shoulder and all.”

You release his face from in between your palms, forcing his head to slam back onto the concrete floor.

“Don’t. Move.” You point at him with a bloody finger.

You take one final look at him before standing up off of him and turning to walk back in the direction of the jet.

“I’m not waiting around for the feds,” You mumble, exhausted. Your face is pounding less and less and just going numb altogether, which you don’t think is a good sign.

“Go after her,” Sam tells Bucky, “I’ll call Torres to come over and help me. And reach out to Shuri, see if there’s anything she can do to help him.” The soldier remains unmoving on the ground, eyes shooting around the room wildly, but body stiff as a board.

Bucky gets himself up, grabbing the vibranium shield and handing it back to Sam, who’s still groaning on the ground. It’s not easy fighting super soldiers, Bucky imagines. It’s not like Sam has mind powers.

He walks out of the building to try and catch up with you.

“Hey,” He says, gently reaching for your arm to pull you back towards him.

The blood from your shattered nose has now pooled down your chin and neck, soaking your tac gear. Bucky tilts your face up with barely any pressure. A thumb brushes across your face and you wince, but try not to move so he can assess you.

“I think your cheekbone is broken.”

“My fingers,” You all but whimper, bringing them up from your sides.

“Also broken. At least six of ‘em,” He presses and pulls along each of them, ignoring your wincing and pulls on your right middle finger, a pop sounding and a loud groan coming from your mouth, teeth clenching so hard you think you’ll crack them, “Five. That one was just dislocated.”

“You guys will help him, right?” You confirm, Bucky still gently roaming his hands along your body to check for major injuries.

“He didn’t do anything,” You whimper, and Bucky looks up to see tears in your eyes.

“Babe -”

“He’s not evil, he didn’t mean to do anything,” You cry, and begin to sob, your emotions overwhelming you.

“He didn’t, baby, we’ll help him as much as we can. Right now, we need to get you to the jet so we can go home and get you to the MedBay, can we do that? Can you walk, want me to carry you?” He coos, hating the sight of his girlfriend in both physical and emotional pain.

You sniffle and close your eyes, ducking your head, and Bucky takes your silence as a plea to be carried, gently scoping you up bridal style and carefully walking back in the direction of the jet. He hears a few more sniffles as you curl into his body, nuzzling into his jaw, as you close your eyes and try to ignore the pain in your face as much as you can.

“Can we go out tonight? To that little Italian place we went to that one time?”

“If you’re not too tired or in too much pain, sure, baby.”

“And a movie?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll wine and dine you real good.”

“Red wine or white?”

“We can have that pink raspberry one you like. The one that tastes nothing like wine.”

“Ugh, don’t make me smile, it hurts.”

“Sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #o she powerful #and overprotective of her frens

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